
aass__ 
Book—. 



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A STRENUOUS 
LIFE 

A MERRY FARCE IN 
tHREE ACTS 

BY 

RICHARD WALTON TULLY 

.;„/;,^ fff "The Rose of the T^nu.-h.: " "TIu^ BLrri 
/ Paradise," "Omar, 
"The Flame, 



Copyright, 1911, 

PV PirHARD WaI.TON TiJVLY 



PRICE. 50 CENTS 



J» J^ tS^ 



SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

Publisher J 26 Southampton Street 

25 West 4^: 



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Golden Days 



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"Golden Days" is a play with all the charm of youth. It enjoyed a 
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Come Out of the Kitchen 

A charming comedy in 3 acts, adapted by A. E, Thomas from tbe 
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A Full House 



A farcical comedy in three acts. By Fred Jackson. 7 males, 7 
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New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Wailed Free on Request 



t 

A Strenuous Life 



A MERRY FARCE IN 
THREE ACTS 



BY 

RICHARD WALTON TULLY 

(I 

Author of "The Rose of the Rancho" "The Bird of 

Paradise/' "Omar, The Tentmaker," 

"The Flame/' etc. 



Copyright, 1911, by Richard Walton Tully 



All Rights Reserved 

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 
that "A STRENUOUS LIFE," being fully protected 
under the copyright laws of the United States of Amer- 
ica, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Can- 
ada, and all countries subscribing to the Berne Conven- 
tion, is subject to ro3^alty, and anyone presenting the play 
without the consent of the author or his authorized 
agents will be liable to the penalties by law provided. 
Applications for the acting rights must be made to Samuel 
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. 






New York: 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 
25 West 45th Street 



London : 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

Strand 



^1^1 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



Especial notice should be taken that the possession 
of this book without a valid contract for production 
first having been obtained from the publisher, con- 
fers no right or license to professionals or amateurs 
to produce the play publicly or in private for gain 
or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the 
reading public only, and no performance, represen- 
tation, production, recitation, or public reading or 
radio broadcasting may be given except by special 
arrangement with Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, 
New York. 

This play may be presented by amateurs upon pay- 
ment of a royalty of Fifteen Dollars for each 
performance, payable to Samuel French, 25 West 
45th Street, New York, one week before the date 
when the play is given. 

Professional royalty quoted on application to Samuel 
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. 

Whenever the play is produced the following 
notice must appear on all programs, printing and 
advertising for the play: "Produced by special 
arrangement with Samuel French of New York." 

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law 
for any infringement of the author's right, as follows : 

"Section 4966: — Any person publicly performing 
or representing any dramatic or musical composition 
for which copyright has been obtained, without the 
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be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred 
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to be just. If the unlawful performance and repre- 
sentation be wilful and for profit, such person or 
persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon 
conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not ex- 
ceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes : Title 60, 
Chap. 3. 






-ps^ 



531 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

(Nine male and five female characters. But see im- 
portant notice about Casting on page y.) 

Tom Harrington, Football Captain 

Reginald Black, his Chum 

Byron Harrington, Father of His Son 

James Roberts, a Freshman 

William Everett James, a new Professor from 

Stanford, the rival college 
Dan Dave n a NT, from the Hills 
Professor Magee, Director of the ''gym" 
NuGATA, ''Good, Honest, Intelligent Japanese School- 
hoy" 
Dawley, a Collector 

Three Freshmen (to be used in the drill scene) 
Mrs. Wigginton Wiggins, the Landlady 
Marian Davenant 

Ruth Tho^rnton, Mrs. Wiggins^s Niece 
Dulcie Harrington, Town's Sister from High 

School 
Widow Maguire, familiarly known as "The Widow" 
Guests at the dance (if desired) 



SYNOPSIS 

Act I. Reception room of Mrs. IViggins's board- 
ing-house, near the University of Cali- 
fornia. Morning. 

Act II. Same. Afternoon. 

Act hi. Same. Evemng. 

Time: The present. 

Place: The college town of Berkeley, just across 
the Bay from San Francisco. 



IMPORTANT NOTICE 

"A Strenuous Life" can be played in any of the 
following combinations : 

1. Nine male; five female. 

Play the farce as written. This is its best 
form. 

2. Eight male; six female. 

Change Nugata to Chia, "good, honest, intel- 
ligent Japanese school girl," and have the char- 
acter played by a young lady. 

3. Eight male ; five female. 

Have the same person play Magee and Daw- 
ley. Play Nugata as a boy. 

4. Seven male ; six female. 

Change Nugata to a girl and have one actor 
play two parts as above. 

5. Six male ; six female ; one male teacher. 

Same as above, but have Professor Magee 
played by a male teacher and leave out Dawley, 
giving his lines to Mrs. Maguire. 

6. Seven male ; four female ; one male teacher. 

Leave out Dawley and Widow Maquire, hav- 
ing the second act end with Rob's entrance, fol- 
lowed immediately by the entrance of James. 

By these it will be seen that the least number of 
male characters is six, with the help of a teacher ; the 
least number of female characters is four. As many 
men and as many girls as desired can be used as 
guests. The three freshmen used in the second act 
may or may not belong to the class. They are 
"supers" to march on and off. If these three are 
members of the class, they may be put on the pre- 

7 



8 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

gram as First Freshman, Second Freshman and 
Third Freshman, giving them credit for the per- 
formance. Otherwise, they need not appear on the 
program. 

In communities where the mention of Hquor is 
not offensive the references to Widow Maguire and 
tobacco can be changed to "bootleg." In this case 
Dan asks for a drink and Nugata brings in a glass 
of water in Act I page 54. 



THE CHARACTERS 

Tom Harrington 

A young college man about twenty-two, a thor- 
oughly ''good fellow'' who is compelled to he- 
come a liar of the first water by force of cir- 
cumstance, but who repents when he sees that 
the truth is a better plan. He wears a lieuten- 
ant's uniform in Act I, sack suit with sweater in 
Act II, and evening dress in Act III. 

Reginald Black 

About Tom's age, but more sober and truthful. 
He helps Tom not because he wishes to, but be- 
cause he likes Torn,. Sack suit in Act I and first 
part of Act II ; uniform of lieutenant last part 
of Act II; dress suit, Act III. 

James Roberts 

A youth about nineteen. He is not the ordinary 
dude of the stage. He is bright, but has been 
raised a ''mamma's boy" and has not gotten over 
it. He speaks and pronounces his r's as w's in a 
drawling musical voice (high). He zuears his 
trousers, gray, turned up high. Black coat, 
fancy vest, red tie and shirt. Hat, small 
''dicer," too small for him. Very short, light 
box overcoat. 

Professor James 

A man of about thirty, with black hair and 
smooth face — his hair on the sides of his ears 
comes down in slight chops to the lower part of 
the ear, just enough to indicate age, but not 
enough to spoil the illusion that he may be a 
"young feller," He wears a cutaway frock suit 
9 



10 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

throughout, except that after the drill scene in 
the Second Act, his coat is very ragged and torn. 
He has a low voice, and speaks sharply and ab- 
ruptly. 

Dan Davenant 

Is just from the hills, hut is not the miner with 
snakes in his hoots. He is dressed in a Prince 
Albert; wide, white Alpine hat, hoots, vest cut 
low, low collar with turned-out tips, black tie. 
He is about Byron's age, with gray hair, slightly 
bald, and has gray goatee. His nose is red. He 
is not roaring loud in his actions, hut simply cor- 
dially assertive. However, he always wants it 
known that he has his pile. 

Professor Magee 

Is a man anywhere front thirty-five to fifty years 
old. He has a Van Dyke beard and must move 
slowly and with gravity. His voice is stern and 
commanding. 

Dawley 

Wears a shabby suit and hat. He has a tough 
air. Wears a moustache. 

Byron Harrington 

Is the type of prosperous business mxin, about 
fifty years of age. Dresses in a light suit. He 
has white-gray hair and side-burns. He is also 
stout and should he made up with an artificial 
stomach. He should speak slowly and deliber- 
ately in a way to carry weight. Dress suit in 
Act HI. 

Nugata 

Is a small Japanese. This is a very important 
part, and the actor who plays it must be a capable 
pantomimist. He is supposed to represent the 
class of Japanese that do housework for their 
hoard and lodging while they go to school. He 
invariably carries a hook and when no one is 
looking he always neglects what he is doing to 



A STRENUOUS LIFE ii 

study the hook. When reprimanded, he tries to 
cram it into his pocket. He is generally scared, 
and tries to explain in pantomime. He can say 
hut one word, ''Yisf The hest comedy effect 
will he produced if, he fore each answer, he 
screws up- his face for a few seconds of puzzled 
thinking zvhile he shoots a glance at the audi- 
ence. It must he only a second's pause, how- 
ever. When addressed hy some one, he looks 
at them zvhile they question him; then out at 
the audience while he thinks; then hack to the 
speaker; then smiles with audible breathing 
sound and answers "Yis." He dresses in short 
hlack waitei^s jacket which has a small pocket; a 
white apron tied around under his coat; low, 
straight collar, hlack string tie, and worn low 
shoes zmth lavender socks. (If on account of a 
lack of hoys, this part is played hy a girl, all 
these directions apply, except that the actress 
dresses in a simple hlack American dress with 
a zvhite apron that has a small pocket. She 
wears her hair in Japanese fashion.) 

Marian Davenant 

Is a stylishly dressed girl of about twenty. She 
should he attractive and dashing. 

Mrs. Wiggins 

Has seen hetter days. She can he played as 
hroadly as desired. As written, she is about 
forty, and hitter in Act I. Under the influence 
of love, however, she melts and is quite kitten- 
ish in Act III. She wears an apron over a hlack 
dress in Acts I and II, and an ancient affair of 
about 1880, in Act III. 

Ruth Thornton 

Is a quiet, lovable girl, of about Marian's age. 
She is not fond of show, and dresses quietly. 
She and Reginald are the most quiet people in 
the play. Evening dress in Act III. 



12 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

DULCIE 

An attractive High School Girl. 
Mrs. Maguire 

Little or large Irishwofttan. Small black bon- 
net. Plaid shawl. Black skirt. 



HINTS TO THE PLAYERS 

(You do not need a professional coach if you fol- 
low these directions carefully) 

A few suggestions are offered to the players in 
this farce. Take the production as a serious affair, 
and make those who decide to take part promise to 
come to every rehearsal. In this regard it is better to 
have fewer rehearsals just before the presentation 
of the play with everyone in attendance than to 
string out many rehearsals over several months be- 
fore the performance at which only half of the prin- 
cipals are present. Once rehearsals are begun, no 
excuse for absence should be received. Amateur 
performances are failures because members of the 
cast say, "There are going to be plenty of rehears- 
als. I'll go to that other affair to-night." 

The following should be chosen: Business Man- 
ager, Press Agent, Stage Manager, Master of Prop- 
erties. * 

The Stage Manager should have absolute author- 
ity. This person must study the manuscript very 
carefully. As written here, it has been played many 
hundred times, and everything has been worked out 
carefully. It will be the Stage Manager's business 
to see that every one follows the directions of the 
manuscript correctly, and his word should be final. 
If he is a member of the cast, an Assistant Manager 
(not in the cast) should be selected to have entire 
charge of ringing up and ringing down the curtain, 
also all rings of the door bell, starting and stopping 
of the music, etc., etc. 

The business of the Master of Properties will be 
to prepare all the things handled by each player on 

13 



14 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

the stage. He must secure these things and be ab- 
solutely responsible for their appearance at the last 
few rehearsals. 

The most important of these properties are the 
wigs and whiskers for Roberts. In regard to the 
wigs, it is necessary that the young men who play 
Roberts, Byron Harrington, Davenant, Nugata and 
Professor Magee should secure their wigs in plenty 
of time for the actual performance; also the same 
is true in regard to the young lady playing Widow 
Maguire. 

In regard to wigs for this performance, only one 
is absolutely necessary — the Svengali wig for Rob- 
erts and whiskers to match. However, Dan, Byron 
and Mrs. Wiggins must powder their hair; Nugata 
must have black hair, and Roberts should be blonde. 
The best effect is achieved when the following wigs 
are used. They may be rented for a total of fifteen 
dollars at any first-class wig-maker's. Wm. Hepner, 
137 W. 44th Street, New York City, will furnish the 
best wigs, sterilized and dressed for the above sum ; 
also Goldstein & Co. of San Francisco, Cal. The 
different charges are itemized below : 

I SvengaH red wig, (rental) $2.00 

I whiskers to match " .50 

I Japanese wig for Nugata, " 3.00 

I Bald gray wig for Dan, ... " 2.00 

Plain white gray wig, Byron, " 2.00 

I Blonde wig for Roberts, . . " 2.50 

I Red wig, Mrs. Maguire, . . " 3.00 



Total, 15.00 
Mrs. Wiggins powders her hair. 

Besides, you should get one box assorted grease 
paints which will cost seventy-five cents and one 
yard of crepe hair, costing thirty-five cents. Divide 
the yard as follows: one-quarter to match Byron's 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 15 

wig, one-quarter to match Dan's, one-quarter to 
match the color of James' hair, one-quarter to match 
Dawley's hair. If Magee's hair is not the color of 
any of these, an extra quarter of a yard must be got- 
ten for his iDeard. When ordering send the size of 
each actor's hat and the colors of the hair as above. 
On the night of the performance get a small bottle 
of Gum-mastic and ether from the Drug Store (cost 
from ten to twenty-five cents ) . Use this to stick on 
the false beards, sideburns, goatees, etc. These are 
easily made by pulling out the crepe hair and work- 
ing it into the proper shape. Be sure to have the 
druggist put in plenty of gum and there will be no 
danger of the hair coming off. It may feel as if it is 
going to fall off, but do not handle it after placing it 
on firmly. 

Learn your parts thoroughly before you try to go 
too quickly. Work out all the scenes slov^^ly once, 
and never do them differently thereafter. Then, at 
each rehearsal the speed can be increased. The farce 
is written to be played very fast. 

In this manuscript all stage directions should be 
obeyed : As the actor faces the audience : R means 
the right hand of the stage facing the footlights ; L 
the left ; C is center. Up means away from the foot- 
lights ; down means near the footlights and the audi- 
ence. 

By the direction to play the farce "fast" is meant 
that the players should pick up their cues or speeches 
quickly, and keep the action going briskly. This 
does not mean that the players must "run over 
laughs." 

The trick of waiting while the audience laughs is 
usually what differentiates the professional from the 
amateur performance. During the time that the 
audience is laughing, no words should be said on the 
stage, although the natural actions of the players 



i6 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

should be continued. Just as the laugh dies out, the 
speeches should begin at the same snappy speed. 

Because amateurs usually give only one perform- 
ance, it is hard for them to find out where these 
laughs come. The following method is suggested. 
It is customary for friends of the cast to drop in at 
rehearsals. But it is much better if they can be per- 
suaded to wait until the dress rehearsals. Then al- 
low them to laugh whenever they please, and a good 
idea of where stops must be made can be gamed. 

For example: In the last Act, when Tom says, 
"Is there, can there be anywhere, a man more miser- 
able than I ?" James comes in as if in answer to the 
query. If Tom runs out too quickly, or if James 
neglects to come to a full stop and make a miserable 
picture of a second's duration, the audience will not 
laugh. There must be a distinct stop in the action. 
The injunction to play the farce fast means that it 
should be played fast between the laughs. 

Of course, if the laugh does not occur where it is 
expected, there should be no stop. If the audience 
does not laugh, the player should instantaneously go 
right on. There is nothing worse than an abrupt 
halt inviting an unresponsive audience to laugh. The 
players, by keeping alert, must humor the audience. 
It is this quality of judgment that marks high ex- 
cellence in the acting of farces. 

On the night of the performance, if the players 
find that they have been speaking a line during a^ 
laugh, it will be a v/ise precaution to repeat it as soon 
as the laughter dies away. 

If more players wish to take part in this farce 
than are in the cast of characters, they can appear in 
Act III, as guests in evening clothes, and during the 
first part of the Act pass by the door in the rear as 
though going into the party. A little later couples 
can stroll by at the back. But they should not come 
down to the front of the stage, or in any way take 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 17 

up the attention of the audience, and they should 
not appear between the time of Tom's entrance on 
page 105 and his exit on page no. They can, how- 
ever, all come on for the final curtain, grouping 
themselves at the back of the principals. But if this 
is done, they must appear interested in what goes 
on, and not stand as does the usual chorus in opera. 
Fictitious names should be placed on the programs 
for their parts, and these should be described as 
guests at the dance. 

In regard to advertising, choose a Business Man- 
ager who will make the necessary business arrange- 
ments, the most important of which is not the hiring 
of the hall or theater, but in making sure that the ad- 
vertising of the play before the performance is done 
thoroughly. First of all, the newspapers should be 
furnished with sufficient information concerning the 
performance. Unusually such mention can be se- 
cured free on account of the interest in the local 
high school, or for a small payment. 

Next, the posters that we can furnish for this per- 
formance should be placed in convenient locations 
about town. Usually the students of preparatory 
schools have sufficient influence with the merchants 
to insure that these posters are placed in prominent 
windows. If objection is made to their being of pa- 
per, the half-sheets can be easily pasted upon board 
or thick cardboard, and set up. 

Local conditions determine entirely whether bill 
posting should be done or not, but at least one or two 
bills should be displayed in front of the hall or thea- 
ter and in several public places for several weeks be- 
fore the performance. 

In every case where the advertising was properly 
attended to there has been an ample profit upon the 
production of the farce. 



A Strenuous Life 



ACT I 

Curtain music light and catchy. Nugata is dis- 
covered, L.C., dusting furniture and piano ; as 
the music continues he draws a book from under 
his coat and commences to read. As he be- 
comes absorbed more and more, he dusts con- 
tinually in one spot, going slower and slower, 
until he drops the duster. His arm continues to 
move as if dusting, hozvever, as he does not 
know the duster has fallen. Music until first 
speech. 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Voice off r.J Nugata! Nu- 
gata ! 

Nugata. Yis ! (He starts up, tries to cram the 
book into his small pocket with one hand, while he 
picks up the duster with the other and brushes furi- 
ously at chair r. of table.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Still off) Where can that Jap- 
anese be? (Enters R.3E. Savagely) Nugata! 

Nugata. Yis ! (Brushing in same place.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. Oh, there you are! How long 
do you suppose I am going to call you? Didn't you 
hear me? 

Nugata. Yis ! (Nervously tries to hide book.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. Then why didn't you answer ? 

Nugata. (Rattled, and brushing furiously) 
Yis. 

19 



20 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Mrs. Wiggins, (^r.c. Aside) Oh, that boy! 
(Aloud to him) Now, don't dust in one spot for- 
ever ! Dust the room ! 

NuGATA. (Goes to piano) Yis. 

Mrs. Wiggins. And there you go again! Can't 
you say anything but "yis"? (Crosses to h.) 

NuGATA. Yis I (Dodges up and goes r.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Sits r. of table l. Talks to 
NuGATA, who pays no attention) I declare! They 
say that troubles never come singly. Here the ex- 
aminations are all over, registration done, and yet, 
my best paying rooms are vacant, and there's not a 
chance of filling them up now that almost eveiyone 
has returned. (Crosses R. Nugata has worked 
around the room and is about to go into L.3E.J Now, 
don't go in there ! They weren't home last nig-ht. 
f Nugata stops.) They were probably over in San 
Francisco spending the money they should pay me 
on their board bill. At least Mr. Harrington was 
spending the money, while Mr. Black loaned it to 
him. I 

NuGATA. (By door L.3E J Yis ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Savagely) Botheration! Go 
out and sweep the porch. I can't stand having you 
about. 

Nugata. Yis ! (Goes out c. to k.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Crosses l.J That boy! (Bell 
rings outside.) He's just like all the rest. You pay 
them a salary to learn our language, and then they 
want twice as much for knowing it. (Enter Nugata 
c. and doztm r. Makes motions to indicate someone 
is outside. She does not understand.) Didn't I tell 
you to go outside? (^Nugata puts up his hands in 
despair, and disappears c. to l. Mrs. "VViggins looks 
away.) If you don't mind me, I'll show you what 

it is to (She lifts her hand to strike him, but 

Professor Magee has entered, and her voice 
changes from the utmost savageness to sweetness. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 21 

and she shakes his hand instead of striking.) Why, 
how do you do, Professor Magee? Come right in! 
You are very welcome. I was just teUing my Japan- 
ese boy to show you in. 

Magee. So I perceived. (He comes down. En- 
ter up c, Widow Maguire. She comes in slozvly 
and stops, looking at Mrs. Wiggins and Professor 
Magee. They do not see her.) I simply called in 
to see Harrington. 

Widow Maguire. So did I. ("Mrs. Wiggins and 
Professor Magee both start and turn.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. Oh! (To Mageej Professor 
Magee, won't you sit down, — and the lady with you. 

Magee. That lady with me? Not at all. 

Widow Maguire. Well, I should say not! I 
came to see Mr. Harrington. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Well, won't you both sit down 
anyhow? (They both do so.) And it's my opinion 
you'll have to wait if you want to see him. 

Magee. Wait ? 

W^idow Maguire. Wait! 

Magee. What's the matter? 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Growing a little severe, and sit- 
ting r. of table L.) I'm sorry to say he's not at home. 
He's been out all night. 

Magee. (Surprised) Has he ! 

Widow Maguire. Oh, that's nothing new ! He's 
got 'em all skinned at that. 

Magee. (Rising) I beg your pardon! Who is 
this woman? 

Widow Maguire. I'm a person who knows your 
students better than you do. I'm the Widow, and I 
keep a little candy store and sell one or two little 
things in the shape of soda, and 

Magee. Tobacco. 

Widow Maguire. Oh, no, no, Professor! I 
wouldn't think of that ! 



22 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Rising) The Widow, eh? Well, 
what do you want ? 

Widow Maguire. Oh, nothing ! I only had a lit- 
tle bill against Mr. Harrington, for But never 

mind! I'll come back again! I'll come back again 
when the Professor ain't here. 

Magee. One moment, madam! I want to warn 
you. There's a law against cigarette smoking here. 
And sooner or later, if you continue to sell to- 
bacco 

Widow Maguire. Oh, don't worry, Professor. 
I won't! I won't! Good-day, Madam. Good-day. 
(She goes out c. to R.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. That bill was for tobacco. Why, 
his room fairly reeks with it! 

Magee. Really? Not when he's training? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Ah, sir, it shocks you, but I give 
you my word it is true. He can conceal nothing 
from me. 

Magee. That is undoubtedly true. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Sir? 

Magee. True that he smokes occasionally. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Most certainly, sir. Why, he is 
one of the worst 

Magee. (Rising and starting r.c.J Perhaps. But 
I have always found him a manly, straightforward 
fellow. 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Rising and l.c.) Oh, certainly, 
he — he 

Magee. I called to see him on a matter of im- 
portance to his welfare. Unless he sees me at once 
he may be compelled to leave college. I have writ- 
ten, but he has not answered. He has been neglect- 
ing his gymnasium work. 

Mrs. Wiggins. What! Has he been cutting 
gym? 

Magee. Yes, cutting gym. You will tell him? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 23 

Mrs. Wiggins Certainly, Professor Magee, with 
the greatest of pleasure. (She hows very low.) 

Magee. Good-day, madam ! (Exits c. and R.j 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Very sweetly) Good-day, sir. 
(After he is out of ear-shot, savagely, l.c.J Nugata ! 

Ruth. (Entering R.3E. and coming down r.c.J 
Aunty ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. Well? 

Ruth. Has — has Mr. Black been to breakfast 
yet? 

Mrs. Wiggins. No, he hasn't. He's been out all 
night with that friend of his, Tom Harrington. Both 
probably (Crosses R. and sits on sofa.) 

Ruth. Why, Aunty, don't say that ! There isn't 
a kinder-hearted fellow in all Berkeley than Mr. 
Harrington. And I'm sure that Mr. Black is — 
is 

Mrs. Wiggins. He's just as bad. Any person 
who allows himself to be led by the nose the way he 
lets Harrington lead him, is as bad as the one that 
does it. 

Ruth. But, Aunty, what has he done? (Comes 
over hack of sofa.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Rising and crossing h.) Done ! 
What hasn't Tom Harrington made him do? He 
isn't so bad when you take him alone ; but the pair ! 
(Indicating despair) I'd become dumb trying to tell 
it ! At least, they went away last term without pay- 
ing their final month's board. 

Ruth. Oh, Aunty, Mr. Black said he gave Mr. 
Harrington the money to pay you just before last 
term closed. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Well, there's one thing certain: 
/ never got it. But that isn't all I complain of. Now 
that they've returned, they even haven't paid their 
first month's board this year, when they know very 
well that my rules are: Pay strictly in advance. 



24 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

(Tearfully in handkerchief l.c.J Oh, they wouldn't 
treat me that way if Wiggins was aHve ! 

Ruth. (Going and embracing her) Well, 
Aunty, you're not fair to — to Reginald. They'll pay 
you this time. (Confidingly) Mr. Black had the 
money last night ! 

Mrs. Wiggins, ^l.c. Dropping handkerchief 
and sarcastically mad) Yes. Before they went to 
San Francisco ! They probably had to borrow their 
ferry tickets this morning. 

Ruth. (^r.c. Reproachfully) Aunty! 

Mrs. Wiggins. Well, I don't know what is to be- 
come of me ! All the other boarding places are filled, 
but I got no new boarders, and my old ones don't 
pay anything. 

Ruth. But you advertised in the city papers. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Yes, and what good did it do me? 
Not a reply. (Crossing r.) Oh, I don't complain. 
But it's rather hard on a poor, lone widow. 

Ruth. Poor Aunty ! I can't blame you for being 
worried. It is rather discouraging. (Bell outside.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Stops and looks at picture of 
W^iGGiNS R.j To think, Ruth: I used to have my 
own carriage, my own horses ! And now all I have 
left are those harness monograms hanging on his 
picture. (Goes over and takes down tzvo monograms 
hanging by ribbons to Wiggins" picture. Holds 
them out at arm's length.) W. That stood for Wig- 
gins. (Hangs them up again, and goes toward R.3E. 
Tvith her apron to her eyes.) Oh, if Wiggins was 
alive ! (Exits R.3E.J 

(Ruth kneels on sofa, looking after her. Enter 
NuGATA c. frofn r. with tray, upon zvhich are 
eight letters. He comes dozim and stands c. 
Ruth, seeing him, goes f.c.J 

NuGATA. Yis. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 25 

Ruth. (Takes them) Any letters for me? Let 
me see. (Runs them over.) Two for Aunty; one, 
two, three, four, for Mr. Harrington; and one for 
Reginald. (Very happily, hut sobers as she looks at 
it closely) It's a woman's handwriting! Now, who 
could be writing to him? Has he been — ? 

NuGATA. (Who has been peeping over her shoul- 
der) Yis. 

Ruth. (Starting. She has forgotten NugataJ 
Oh — ^a — a — Nugata! (Hesitates) Take the letters. 
(Places them on a tray and sits on sofa r. j 

Nugata. (Looking after her, points first after 
her, then at letter, then at Black's room L.3E., then 
at letter. Covers his face with his hand and smiles 
through it) Yis ! (He places the tray on table l. 
and commences to read book.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Outside) Letters! (Enters 
R.c.j Why weren't they brought to me? (^Nugata 
dodges out c. to l.) That boy! (Running over 
pile.) Letters forme? (Holds up some. Talks to 
Ruth, who pays little attention) Harrington ! I 
wonder if they contain money. Duns, more likely. 
Ah, here it is ! This one is for me. (As she opens 
it) Well, well, what's this? (Reads) "Stanford 
University, Palo Alto. Mrs. Wiggington Wiggins, 
Berkeley, Dear Madam : I write this letter to secure 
a room and board for myself the coming college 
year at your boarding house, which has been highly 
recommended to me. I shall arrive to-morrow morn- 
ing. Yours very truly, William Everett James." 
Professor James, the new Professor of Mathematics ! 
(At table l.) Nugata! Nugata! 

Nugata. (Outside) Yis. (Enter c. from l.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Pointing r.ie.J Go fix that 
room up for Professor James. 

Nugata. Yis. (Exits r.ie.J 

Mrs. Wiggins. (As she opens other letters) 
Well, that's one consolation! What's this! An- 



26 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

other! (Reads) "Dear Madam: I saw your ad- 
vertisement in the Examiner. Please prepare a nice 
room as I want to live in Berkeley when I go to 
school there. I expect to commence my lessons to- 
morrow, so shall come over then. Be sure that it is 
a nice room, as Mama wants me to be comfortable. 
Yours, James Roberts." Another! Nugata! Nu- 
gata ! 

Nugata. (Off r.J Yis! (Enters r.ie. and 
crosses hurriedly at her order. He has his book be- 
tween his teeth; his duster underneath his arm, sev- 
eral towels hung about him, over the shoulders and 
arms. In one hand he carries a china wash bozvl, in 
the other a pitcher.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. Fix up that room — (Points 
L.iE.J — for Mr. Roberts. (^Nugata goes across and 
out L.I E.J Now, if I could just get one more boarder, 

my house would (Noise off l. Crockery 

crash.) Oh, that boy! ("Mrs. Wiggins exits l.ie., 
followed by Ruth. J 

(Music very slow and pianissimo in orchestra, "We 
Won't Go Home Until Morning." Enter Tom 
slowly at c. from R. He has a suit-case in one 
hand, his overcoat over the other arm. His 
hair is disheveled, his necktie askew, his cap on 
the side of his head, and his whole appearance 
goes to show that he has been out all night. He 
is dressed in a lieutenant's uniform — the coat is 
unbottoned at top for three buttons, showing 
fancy shirt beneath. He walks very slowly 
down c. and sits R. of sofa. He feels his head 
and groans slightly. Reginald appears at door 
c. from R. He is dressed smartly, and no sign 
of any outing the night before. He stands, tak- 
ing Tom in, and laughing quietly. Tom rises 
and goes to table h., where a pitcher of water 
and glasses stand, and drinks three or four 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 27 

glasses. Returns to sofa and sits down. Feels 
his head and groans audibly. Reginald comes 
down; places his case, overcoat and hat at the 
side of Tom's^ and stands l.c. laughing until 
music stops.) 

Tom. (Noticing Reginald^ Did you pay the 
cabman ? 

Reginald. Yes. (A pause.) Well? 

Tom. (After a pause, hand at his head) Well, 
we're home again. Oh, what a headache! 

Reginald. (Goes l. and sits on table) Yes. 
You must have butted around amazingly to get such 
a head. I'm glad I left you last night. 

Tom. I'm not. 

Reginald. Why? 

Tom. Because I wouldn't have done what I did. 

Reginald. Well, what did you do? You haven't 
told me yet the cause of all this gay parade of brass 
buttons. 

Tom. Reggie, old boy, without meaning to do any 
wrong, last night I enlisted in the army. 

Reginald. (Jumps off and comes c.) What! 
You did? 

Tom. Well, not exactly. (^Reginald sits again.) 
But still, very near it. It was this way : You know 
why I went to the city yesterday? 

Reginald. Yes. To get that lieutenant's uni- 
form. 

Tom. (Looking at his clothes and with a tired 
wave of his hand) This gaudy plumage ! (Pause.) 
Well, I got it. 

Reginald. On credit. 

Tom. No — er — yes. Of course. I got it and took 
it over to the Palace Hotel where I vras to dine 

Reginald. On credit. 

Tom. Yes — a — no ! I was going to pay for that. 

Reginald. (Laughing) Wonderful ! 



28 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Tom. (Rising and starting c.) Very well, if you 
don't care to hear 

Reginald. There, sit down. Of course I do. 
(Puts Tom back on sofa. Jars his head. He feels 
it.) Palace Hotel — you were to dine 

Tom. It was rather early, and while I was wait- 
ing I noticed that there were some soldiers also wait- 
ing — a banquet was to be given to the Colorado 
troops who were to leave for the Philippines. The 
mayor of the city was there, and stood for the feed 
— the real thing, you know. 

Reginald. Yes ? 

Tom. Well, I had this suit in my case, and — 
and 

Reginald. And you thought it would be a keen 
stunt to play soldier and get some of the feed. I 
never saw such a fellow for getting into scrapes. 

Tom. I take my oath as football captain, I never 
meant to do any harm. But — suddenly — I don't 
know how it happened — I realized that I had put on 
my uniform, broken off one side of the U on this 
cap, leaving simply Company J. 

Reginald. And the C underneath stood for Colo- 
rado. (Takes cap and shows it. Drops it on case.) 

Tom. Exactly, and the young lady 

Reginald. (In high spirits, crosses hack of sofa 
and sits r. of Tom) O — oh! There was a young 
lady? 

Tom. Yes. You see, she wouldn't look at me be- 
fore, and seemed so interested in soldiers, that I — I 
— well, met her father when I came into the 
crowd 

Reginald. (In solemn bantering voice) There 
was a father? (Laughs.) 

Tom. Yes. I introduced myself to him 

Reginald. And who were you? 

Tom. I ? I was Lieutenant Thomas. 

Reginald. Thomas what? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 29 

Tom. Simply Lieutenant Thomas. You don't 
suppose I gave my last name, do you? 

Reginald. Impossible ! 

Tom. Well, I interviewed the old gent. He was 
a miner down from some old place — oh, yes, Angels* 
Camp — rich as they make 'em. He and his daughter 
had been invited to the spread. 

Reginald. Did you meet her? 

Tom. Yes. Her father and I became pretty well 
acquainted, and he introduced me to her. I sat by 
her all through the banquet. (Reflectively) Ah, she 
was a queen! 

Reginald. (Scoffing) Ye-es ! 

Tom. Well, she was ! 

Reginald. Of course! And then ? 

Tom. Oh, you know. After the banquet we went 
into the parlor, where I sat at the piano, and — and — 
Oh, you know — good-bye forever — after to-night, 
what will to-morrow be, and — and — well, don't you 
know, by that time I really believed that I was going, 
— going far away to some Philippine jungle to die of 
— of the Balangalang fever. 

Reginald. The balangalang? What's that? 

Tom. I don't know. But it sounded great. 

Reginald. And you acted out the part ? 

Tom. Why have I been playing in amateur theat- 
ricals ? Did I act ? I should say so ! And I didn't 
need any of my wigs and make-up either. (Points 
to room L.J 

Reginald. But why didn't you join me after- 
ward as you promised? 

Tom. Well, during all this time the father had 
been making intermittent trips downstairs, and when 
I left her he insisted upon my going with him there, 
and I couldn't get away till late. 

Reginald. Well, I can't see what there is to re- 
gret about the affair. 

Tom. Oh, that's not all. That's the worst of it. 



30 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Some time during the early morning hours, her 
father said something to me in which he distinctly 
mentioned Berkeley. Now, for the life of me, I can't 
remember what he said. (Feels his head.) 

Reginald. (Laughs) No wonder! But is that 
all? 

Tom. Oh, I forgot. This morning I felt mean 
at duping such a nice girl — because she was, you 
know (^Reginald laughs.) Well, she was ! 

Reginald. Oh, she zvas. (Laughs.) 

Tom. So I purchased the prettiest little gold saber 
with a diamond in it — (Reginald stops laughing 
suddenly) — and sent it up — (Rises and goes r.c.) — 
with the compliments of Lieutenant Thomas. 

Reginald. (Amused, sober. Rising) With 
what ? 

Tom. The compliments of Lieutenant Thomas. 

Reginald. (Disgusted) No, I mean — with 
what? (Taps his pocket, indicating money.) 

Tom. The money you loaned me last night. 

Reginald, (r.c.) Great Scott ! Our board bill ! 
(Catches him.) 

Tom. Now, don't get excited. She was a queen. 
You should have seen her! 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Off h.) All right, Nugata. 

Reginald. (Preparing for the onslaught) Mrs. 
Wiggins ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Entering l.ie. Stops and 
slowly takes them in. In freezing tones and atti- 
tude) Good morning, gentlemen ! (They are stand- 
ing half turned hack to hack.) 

Tom and Reginald. (Politely) Good morning, 
Mrs. Wiggins. 

Mrs. Wiggins. I wish to speak with you, Mr. 
Harrington. — (Reginald tries to sneak) — and you, 
too, Mr. Black. (^Reginald takes a long step hack 
to his former position.) 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 31 

Tom. (Aside to Reginald^ Here's where we 
get our money's worth! 

Mrs. Wiggins. Now, I never try to be hard on 
any one, as I am a poor widow woman myself 

Tom. (Aside to Reginald^ Same old spiel! 

Mrs. Wiggins. But you know my rules are "Pay 
strictly in advance." fToM nods.) I have been very 
lenient with you, Mr. Harrington. ("Reginald 
laughs.) And with you, too, Mr. Black. ("Reg- 
INALD sobers.) 

Tom. (Mock scolding) Do you hear that, Mr. 
Black? She's been very lenient vv^ith you, sir. 

Mrs. Wiggins. But I must have the money you 
owe me from last year. 

Reginald. (Much surprised) Last year? 

Tom. (Nervously) Yes. A — ah — ^ha! There 

7vas a little balance from last year, but (Feels 

through his pockets.) Mrs. Wiggins, you shall have 

your money right away (She extends her 

hand.) We are temporarily embarrased, but I am 
expecting money by every mail. 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Crossing stiffly up r. to R.3E.J 
Then you'd better look over your letters on the table. 
/ knew it! (Exits R.3E.J 

Tom. I wonder what she knew! (They dive to- 
ward the table l., To^m to back of table and Reg- 
inald to R. They get their letters. Both open one. 
Reginald sits sofa r., Tom remains back of table 
u) 

Reginald. Mine is from home ! 

Tom. Say, is this the first of the month? 

Reginald. No, the thirteenth. 

Tom. Well, they're coming in droves, anyhow. 

Let's see (Reads) "Dear Sir : We regret that 

we must again bring this little matter to your atten- 
tion, but your account — " Oh, pshaw ! (Crumples it 
up and throws it away. Then opens another.) Of 



32 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

all sad words that e'er were writ — The saddest are 
these: You'll please remit. 

Reginald. If you've got it. 

Tom. (Reads) ^'Report at the gymnasium to-day 
at 1 :55 for work. This is necessary, because of your 
failure in the Sophomore course." (Looks at Reg- 
INALD.J "Yours lovingly, Walter E. Magee." 

Reginald. Quite touching ! 

Tom. Not half as touching as this will probably 
be. (Opens another and reads) "Dear Sir: If you 
do not — " Humph ! (Laughs.) They must be anx- 
ious. I don't see why they worry. It doesn't bother 
me. (Opens fourth.) From Dad! (He walks 
around and stands in front of chair r. of table L.j 

"My dear son: I have long desired " (Reads 

to himself rapidly and falls on chair r. of table.) 

Reginald. (Jumps up and runs to him) Why, 
what's the matter? * 

Tom. (Extending letter) ^ead it! Read it! 

Reginald. (Reading r.c.J "My dear son: I 
have long desired to visit Berkeley and see how well 
you have been doing." (Turns around, smiling, and 
looks at Tom, ivho turns azvay his head with a des- 
pairing look and covers his face with his hands.) 
"The chance has now arrived. To-morrow I leave 
for San Francisco on business. I shall drop over 
and see you Thursday morning. You don't know 
how glad I am to have a chance of visiting the scene 
of your many triumphs." (Smiles and same busi- 
ness as before.) "You must show me your Mathe- 
matics medal — " What ! Mathematics medal ! 

Tom. Of course! I had to win something. 

Reginald. (Laughing) That's pretty good! 
(Reads) "Your Mathematics medal, and other 
trophies of scholarship. Hoping this reaches vou in 
good health, I am, your affectionate father, Byron 
Harrington." (^ToM makes feeble gestures.) Then 
he's coming here? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 33 

Tom. Can't you read? 

Reginald. This morning? 

Tom. Certainly. 

Reginald. And the medal — trophies- 



Tom. (Coining over L.c.j Great Scott, Reggie! 
You knov/ my record as a student. Why, you've 
saved me from being fired out of college a dozen 
times. 

Reginald. But he thinks ? 

Tom. He thinks that I've got all the cracker jack 
students on a freight train, and that my perfect 
marks make a pile as big as 

Reginald. Your debts? 

Tom. No, not that many. 

Reginald. What are you going to do? 

Tom. Ask me. 

Reginald. I might ask you what Mrs. Wiggins 
meant by "last year's debt." 

Tom. She meant last year's debt. 

Reginald. Didn't you give her the money I gave 
you? 

Tom. No. I blew it in, thinking I would pay her 
when 1 returned flush. 

Reginald. But you didn't? 

Tom. Did that little seance with her ladyship 
sound like it? No, I started to return flush, but the 
cash lasted only halfway around the old debts. 

Reginald. But I gave you some money last 
night. (With great scorn) Oh, I forgot the dia- 
mond saber and the young lady you will never see 
again. Tom, you're a pajudice bird. 

Tom. You don't have to tell me that, I know it! 
(Bell rings outside.) But, on my honor, I don't 
mean to do these things. I just seem to be a victim 
of circumstances. (Goes l.c.) 

Reginald. Well, if you can stand it, I can. The 
only thing to do is to jolly up. 



34 A STRExNUOUS LIFE 

(Enter Nugata c. from r. with card on tray and 
comes down.) 

Tom. Jolly up! When I'm about to be sacnficed 
by my own father? 

Reginald. (Taking card and reading) Mr. 
Byron Harrington. 

Tom. Enter the executioner! ("Nugata goes out 
R.3F. Enter Byron and Dulcie c. from r. They 
come down c. Byron l. Tom goes between them, 
catching Byron's hand, then turning to Dulcie and 
kissing her.) Father and Dulcie! How are you? 

Byron. Fine ! Fine ! Never felt better in all my 
life. Came over on the ferry in this bracing morn- 
ing air. You should try that, my boy, instead of 
staying indoors a morning like this. (Points inad- 
vertently at the grips beside sofa.) What! Were 
you going out? 

Tom. (Crossing r. to R.c. in front of cases) Yes 
— a — no ! We were just — a — measuring our cases. 
He said his was longer than mine, and I didn't be- 
lieve him. Oh, excuse me, father. This is Mr. 
Black, my room-mate, of whom I have spoken so 
often. ("Byron crosses and shakes hands, going up 
R. end of sofa, joimng Tom in c, and they go l.c.^ 
Reggie, my sister Dulcie. (Presents her, she crosses 
R. to Black and shake hands. Tom gives way and 
goes L.c. to meet Byron.J That's the piano, and 
over there is the bookcase. 

Dulcie. Don't you know, I'm real glad to meet 
you, Mr. Black. Oh, I know you. Tom has told me 
lots and lots about you. You're the kind friend who 
has stuck to him like a brother. 

Reginald. Oh, Miss Harrington, I (They 

talk in pantomime. Meanwhile Byron has been 
looking around the room carefully through his 
glasses.) 

Byron. (To Tom) Nice enough looking house. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 35 

Seems to be well furnished. I guess it's worth what 
you pay for it. 

Tom. / guess it is. 

DuLCiE. (To Tom) Tom, aren't you glad to 
see us? 

Tom. Of course I'm glad. (Winces.) 

Reginald. Yes, he looks glad. (Laughs.) 

DuLCiE. Do you know, we have everything at 
High School that you have. Basketball, and a liter- 
ary society — and, and — a paper, and sororities, and 
a yell. Oh, we have a bully yell — nobody can ever 
understand it. What's yours? 

Reginald. (Reciting, zvith no attempt at expres- 
sion) Oh, ours goes : Oskey-wow-wow ! Whiskey- 
wee-wee! Oley Muckey-eye! Oley-Berkeley-eye, 
Cali-for-ni-eye ! Wow ! ! 

DuLCiE. That's bully ! My, it's exciting to be at 
college! You just wait till I come next year! 

Reginald. Well, judging from your brother. 
Miss Dulcie, things ought to hum. 

DuLCiE. Oh, we're so proud of him. (Tunis to 
TomJ You hear that, Tom? We're so proud of 
you! 

Tom. Oh, Dulcie! (Makes deprecating gesture.) 

Dulcie. He's so modest! ("Reginald coughs. 
Tom gives him a look.) 

Tom. Yes, Mr. Black, I'm modest. 

Dulcie. (Running up toward L.3E.J Now I'm 
going to see Tom's room. Which is it? 

Tom. (Dashing after her and catching her just 
at the door) No, you mustn't do that. (Brings her 
down L.c. Byron has gone r.c, and is inspecting 
cases and overcoats.) 

Dulcie. (Pouting and shrugging her shoulders) 
Why not? 

Tom. It must be put in order first. 



36 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Byron, (c. Some distance from cases) Were 
you measuring overcoats and hats ? 

Tom. (Crosses in front of cases. Enter Mrs. 
Wiggins, R.3E.J Yes — a — no. We were brushing 
them. But here comes Mrs. Wiggins. 

Mrs. Wiggins. I heard you ring 

Tom. Mrs. Wiggins, my father. (She shakes his 
hand.) My sister, Dulcie. (Simply indicates her.) 

Byron. Happy to make your acquaintance. 
(Patronizingly) My son has spoken of you. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Oh, has he? 

Tom. They will be here for only a short time. 
Can you accommodate them? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Certainly. Come with me. 
("Dulcie and Mrs. Wiggins exeunt R.3E. Byron 
turns at door.) 

Byron. Thomas, I shall return presently and you 
shall show me about. (Exit R.3E. Tom gazes after 
him a second, then turns and waves weakly to Reg- 
inald, indicating that the cases, etc., shotdd be re- 
moved. He then walks unsteadily to sofa r. and sits, 
gazing blankly in front of him. Reginald takes out 
things L.3E. and comes back again.) 

Tom. I wonder just how long it will take the 
Empress to strike him for my board bill. At just 
what length of time later will yours truly be resting 
in a nice, little, comfortable plush seat, traveling 
home with papa and sister! 

Reginald, (c. with sarcasm) Measuring cases! 
Say, I thought you were an artistic liar. (Laughs.) 

Tom. (Rising and going r.c. Impressively) 
Reggie, this isn't a time for art. A miracle is the 
only thing that can save me. 

Reginald. Save you! It won't be so dreadful, 
will it ? 

Tom. If he learns what I've been doing here it 
means that I shall be disinherited and turned out of 
the family. I know the governor. It's no use. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 37 

He'l! find out everything, and then (Makes a 

gesture of despair as he shakes Reginald's hand by 
reaching back with left, and grasping his right hand, 
his back to Reginald.) Good-bye. You've been a 
good, true friend to me. Even if 'l am thrown down, 
he'll pay you what I owe you. Good-bye. Tell the 
fellows 

Reginald. Tell the fellows — nonsense! Take 
the ball again for another buck. The game isn't 
over till the referee's whistle blows. Play it out ! 

Tom. It's hopeless. 

Reginald. Do you think we can lose our football 
captain? Nitsky! He'll be here only a couple of 
hours and may meet only the professors with whom 
3^ou have a pull. 

Tom. There aren't any left. Their legs have been 
stretched to the limit long ago. 

Reginald. Can't you get just one to say a good 
word for you, and keep him away from the others? 
fToM shakes his head. They both think.) I have 
it! 

Tom. What? 

Reginald. I'll make up as a Professor while he's 
here, and string him properly ! You steer him away 
from anyone else. Fine ! (Bell outside.) 

Tom. If I didn't have a headache I'd laugh at 
you. Didn't he see you just now? 

Reginald. Hang it, that's so! (Going l.c.; 

Tom. If we could only get someone he doesn't 
know — (Enter Nugata c. from r.) — to play the 

Professor. Let's see (Brightens, and points to 

Nugata) Nugata! (Sorrowfully) No, no! It 
must be someone in the house. "^As the Empress 
says: "Oh, if Wiggins was alive!" (He clasps his 
hands at picture on wall r.J 

Reginald. / have it! Why not get (^Nu- 
gata has come between them c, and Reginald picks 



38 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

ttp card and reads) "Mr. James Roberts." ("Nu- 
GATA goes out R.3E.J 

Tom. James Roberts? (Enter Roberts c. from 
n..) Great Scott! Whatever you do, don't let him 
get out. (Picks up a chair. Reginald picks up a 
chair also.) 

Reginald. Isn't it the loveliest thing! Where's 
your gun? 

Roberts. (Advancing down c. He is dressed in 
a very short, light overcoat with a small dicer on his 
blonde head. His trousers are turned up, showing 
half -shoes and red hose. He wears a red tie and 
fancy vest. In his hands he has grips and bundles 
of various kinds. He stands, smiling, but hesitat- 
ingly. He speaks in a high voice, slightly sing-song) 
Ah! Oh! If you please, gentlemen, could you tell 
me twooly, is this Mrs. Wiggins' boarding house? 

Tom. ( Straight ejiing and placing his hands awk- 
wardly, mocking Roberts j Oh! Ah! We might, 
if we cared to. (Dropping his voice threateningly) 
But who are you, anyway? 

Roberts. (Dodging) Oh — ah, I forgot. I am 
James Wobberts. Ah, or wather, as they will enwoU 
me, I am James Wobberts, Freshman. 

Tom and Reginald. (Laughing and putting 
down chairs. Mocking his tone) James Wobberts 
— Freshman ! 

Roberts. (Plaintively) Yes. And don't you 
know, I got off the train an hour ago, and I've been 
wandering around here ever since, looking for this 
house, don't you know. 

Tom. Poor Freshie! Well, this is the place, all 
right. But you'll have to 

Byron. (Off R.3E.J Very well. Very well ! 

Reginald. There comes your father. 

Tom. The deuce! I'd forgotten him. What 
shall I do? f Roberts stands innocently. Tom and 
Reginald look at each other, out at audience, back 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 39 

to each other, then at Roberts. With a last glance 
of triumph at the audience, they jump at him and 
catch him on either side, knocking his bundles every 
which way. They rush him quickly to sofa r. and 
sit him on it. He is very scared. Tom crosses and 
catches him by the left arm.) See here, Freshie! 

'Reginald. (Crossing back of* Roberts and tak- 
ing his right arm) The very man! (As soon as 
Roberts is on the sofa — Reginald r. of sofa) 
Freshie, you've got to be a Professor for a couple 
of hours. 

Roberts. (Trying to get away. He is very 
scared throughout the scene) See here, now — hold 
on! Don't hurt me! Honest, I never did anything 
wrong. Don't hurt me! 

Tom. (l. of sofa) Shut up! You've got to be 
a Professor. 

Roberts. Professor? Hold on! Don't! I'm 
not a Professor — only a Freshman. 

Reginald. That's all right. This is where you 
get promoted. Tom, get your wigs and make-up. 
("Tom goes L.3E. Reginald threatens with his fist.) 
Now see here, you Freshman ! My chum there is in 
trouble, and you're the only one who can help him 
out. Sit down ! ("Roberts tries to rise but is pulled 
down. This business should continue at favorable 
places through this scene.) 

Roberts. But weally 

Reginald. Shut up! His father has come un- 
expectedly, and we must have a Professor to tell him 
that my chum is a star student. 

Roberts. (Rising) Well, why don't you get 
one? 

Reginald. Sit down! Because we can't. All 
we can do is to gtt someone to play the part about 
two hours until his father goes home. (Sternly) 
And you're the one that's going to do it. Come on, 
Tom. (Enter Tom l.3E.^ carrying box containing a 



40 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

couple of towels and Roberts' Svengali wig and 
whiskers. He stands l. of sofa.) 

Roberts. But I'm not a professor! 

Tom. Of course not. You don't suppose that 
anyone would accuse you of looking like one ! 

Reginald. Well, I guess not. Look at that face ! 
(^Roberts' face is zvorking spasmodically.) 

Tom. Oh, you needn't be afraid! We'll fix that 
face up so that Mama won't know you. Take off 
that hat ! (Reginald takes it off and places it handy, 
hack of sofa. Tom drops zvig box on floor at l. of 
sofa. Kneels and commences to rummage through 
it, throwing out zvig, whiskers and towels.) What's 
the color of his hair? 

Reginald. Cross between magenta and vanilla 
ice cream. 

Tom. Won't do! Ah, here we are! (Holds up 
a Svengali red zvig.) Just the thing ! 

Roberts. Oh-ah-weally now, don't ! For good- 
ness' sakes ! Not that ! Can't I be a Professor with- 
out putting on that? 

Reginald. Absolutely indispensable! On it 
goes! 

Roberts. Oh, say — hold on! 

Tom. Shut up! (Puts on wig. Reginald 
straightens it in shape.) There, you're a regular 
crackerjack. Now for the whiskers. 

Rqberts. (Making a desperate attempt to es- 
cape) Oh, say, no ! Not whiskers ! What would 
Mama say ! (Talks inarticulately as Tom puts them 
on. He does this in front of him and Reginald 
puts little dicer on his head, all out of sight of the 
audience. They then jerk him quickly to his feet. 
He falls from side to side, business ad lib., ending 
with a picture. Roberts in center, Tom and Reg- 
inald laughing on side.) 

Reginald, (r.c.) Talk about your Svengalis! 

Tom. (-l.c.) La, la, la, la, la! 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 41 

Roberts. That's right, laugh at me ! I wish I 
were home with Mamma ! 

Tom. (Threateningly) Look here, James Wob- 
berts. If you don't do as we say, we'll proceed to 
dance a hornpipe on your last remains. But if you 
play your part, and tell my father I'm a good stu- 
dent, we'll let you off in a couple of hours. Take 
your choice. 

Roberts. Oh, what'll I do? What'll I do? All 
wight! I'll do it, — if you weally won't hurt me. 

Tom. Now you're sensible! All you have to do 
when father asks if I'm a good boy is to say, "Oh, 
yes," like that. (^Tom pronounces it most assur- 
ing I y.) 

Roberts. (Weakly) Oh, yes, like that. 

Tom. No! Get some feeling into it. Oh, yes. 
You see? Am I a fine student? 

Roberts. (Imitating TomJ Oh, yes. 

Tom. Good! Hold on, that coat won't do. Reg- 
gie, get my frock coat and top hat. (^Reginald 
exits L.3E. and immediately returns with hat and 
coat.) Now, Freshman, if you're anxious to juggle 
golden harps, you'll get a chance if you don't mind 
your business. Peel ! 

Roberts. Eh? What? 

Tom. Peel. Take off your coat. 

Roberts. Oh, say, now, my Mama gave me this 

coat. Don't hurt me (They take it off and put 

the other on him and place hat on his head, making 
another picture. They hold this laughing. Note: 
The only coat taken off Roberts is the small, light 
overcoat, and this and the small dicer are dropped 
conveniently behind the sofa to he used later. The 
frock coat goes on over Roberts' sack one and later 
can he removed. This is true of the ruhher which is 
used on whiskers, which should be adjusted under 
Svengali wig later, off stage.) 



42 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Reginald. fR.c. Slaps Roberts on back) Out 
of sight ! 

Tom. (Iu.c. Does same on chest) Fine! 

Roberts. (Coughing and straightening up) See 
here, if Vm going to be a Professor, you can't treat 
me that way. 

Reginald. (With mock humility) Oh, excuse 
me, Professor — Professor — hang it! What's his 
name? 

Roberts. (Miserably) James Wobberts — Fresh- 
man. 

Tom. No, no! That won't do. You want to 
choke off your James — James? (An idea strikes 
him.) James? Why not? 

Reginald. Why not what? 

Tom. Don't you see? James. We'll palm him 
off for the new Professor they have been expecting 
from Stanford to teach Mathematics — Professor 
James. 

Reginald. Professor James! Good! No one 
knows him, and he isn't expected for over a week 
yet. Fine! You shall be Professor James. (Slaps 
Roberts on back again.) 

Roberts. Professor James? But say, you fel- 
lahs, what am I Professor of? 

Reginald. Mathematics ! 

Roberts. Mathematics! Oh, good gracious! I 
don't know a — a — blessed thing- about it. 



'fc> 



(Enter Byron imth Dulcie R.3E. Tom grasps 
Roberts' left arm and swings him over to his 
left, kicking him behind his back with right leg. 
Reginald takes out box of migs as soon as 
Byron a^td Dulcie come down. Roberts l., 
Tom l.c, Byron r.c., Dulcie slightly up. 
Roberts makes motions as if he would escape. 
Tom business, ad lib.) 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 43 

Byron. (As he cosines down) Come on, Dulcie. 
Here is Tom. 

Tom. (To Robertsj Remember! 

Byron. Well, well, my son, are you ready for 
me? 

Tom. Well, I've done my best. 

Dulcie. (Coming dozmi r.) Tom, I like your 
boarding house ever so much. 

Roberts. (Aside. Getting interested) Good- 
ness ! What a pretty little girl ! 

Tom. (Kicking Roberts miseen) Father, I wish 
to introduce you to one of my Professors. (Enter 
Mrs. Wiggins R.3E. She stands up c.) This is 
Professor James, my father. (Takes Roberts' arm, 
speaking aside to him) Walk — walk like a Pro- 
fessor ! (^Roberts straightens up and goes over with 
burlesque dignity. Shakes hands with Byron. He 
is very scared, however.) My sister, Dulcie. 
(Waves his hand.) 

Roberts. (Goes r.c. Reginald talks with 
Byron. Roberts to Dulciej Chawmed! Weally 

glad to meet you, Miss — Miss (Aside to Tom 

who is standing c.) Hang it! I don't know your 
name. 

Tom. Flarrington! Tom Harririgton. 

Roberts. (Aloud to DulcieJ Yes. Don't you 
know, pleased to meet you, Tom — Miss Harrington. 

Dulcie. (Aside) What a funny old man! 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Coming down c. Tom goes 
azuay l. to l.c.J So this is indeed Professor James ! 
I received your letter. (^Roberts starts violently and 
appears very rattled. Tom is thunderstruck.) I 
reserved that room for you. (Points r.ie. and 
crosses to it in front of Roberts and Dulcie J 
Right this way. (She stands expectant.) 

Roberts. (Feels helplessly around. Byron is 
looking sharply so Tom stands still and dares do 
nothing. After an appealing glance about, Roberts 



44 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

suddenly straightens, and walks out r.ie. majestic- 
ally, and says, as Tom taught him — ) Oh — yes ! 
(Exit Mrs. Wiggins. Reginald and Dulcie talk.) 

Byron. (Gazing and puzzled) Thomas, was 
that man a Professor? 

Tom. Eh? Why, yes, — didn't he walk like one? 

Byron. He seems a bit queer. 

Tom. Of course, he's a queer — ^but he's a Pro- 
fessor all right. (Aside) I ought to know, I made 
him one myself. 

Byron. How long has he been one ? 

Tom. About ten minutes. 

Byron. Eh? 

Tom. Years — ten years. 

Byron. I don't understand. And a Professor, 
too. Now, I had no such opportunities. I studied 
by a pine-wood fire. 

Dulcie. (r.c.) And you'll show me how they 
measure Freshmen this afternoon? Really? 

Reginald. Yes, but excuse me a moment, I must 
see Professor James. (Goes into room r.ie.j 

Dulcie. (Calling over) Tom! 

Tom. (Turning) Dulcie. 

Dulcie. And now that we are ready 

Tom. (Smiling) Yes. 

Dulcie. Show us your Mathematics medal. 

Tom. What? 

Dulcie. Your medal. 

Byron. Ah yes, my son. 

Tom. (Utterly disconcerted) Why, father, I — 



Byron. Come, come, show it! 
Dulcie. He's so modest. 

Tom. Yes, that's it — Fm modest. (Crosses.) 
Byron. Come, come, now ! No foolish pride, my 
son. Show your sister your medal. 
Tom. What? Right now? 
Byron. (Sternly) Right now. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 45 

Tom. (Collapses again, then shozvs in pantomime 
that an idea lias struck hijn. He straightens up in 
a big bluff) Oh, very well. But — you've got to 
turn away until I'm ready. 

Byron. What ! 

Tom. Yes, and close your eyes. 

DuLCiE. Yes, do it, papa! 

Byron. Er — oh, all right. (He and Dulcie turn 
L., holding each other's hand.) 

Tom. (Makes a quiet sneak toward Wiggins' 
picture. Then turns and looks back, afraid) Ah, 
you're peeking! 

Dulcie. No, we're not. ("Tom gets one of the 
monograms Jiangiug on the picture.) But, Tom, 
hurr}^ ! 

Tom. I am. (Puts ribbon in his lapel.) Ready 
— now ! (They turn quickly. He swells up, point- 
ing to the medal.) 

Dulcie. Oh, Tom, Tom ! (Runs to him and in- 
spects the medal.) 

ByrO'N. My son, I'm proud of you. 

Tom. No, father, I only did my duty. 

Dulcie. (Making a discovery) But — but Tom, 
this is a W. 

Tom and Byron. What? Eh? • 

Tom. Oh — ah — yes. W. 

Dulcie. But W can't mean Mathematics. 

Tom. Oh, that's all right. It's only upside down. 
It's an M — see. (Turns monogram) W this way, 
but (Turns again) This way M — Mathemat- 
ics. 

Byron. Splendid, splendid, my son! Splendid! 
(Takes a cigar out of Jiis pocket and bites end off.) 

Tom. Hold on, Dad! You going to smoke? 

Byron. Yes, why? 

Tom. Oh, it's all right, only they don't sell to- 
bacco in this town. Against the law. 

Byron. Well, I'm glad of it. I don't want my 



46 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

son to use tobacco. But I — well, Fll risk it. It's the 
last I've got, too. 

Tom. Oh, well, then, I won't stop you. Go out 
into the garden — no one will see you there. 

Byron. (Going c. to L.j I'll return presently. 
(Exits c. to L.) 

Tom. All right, father. 

DuLCiE. (Running up L.3E.J I'm going to see 
the room right now, so there! (Runs out l.3E.^ 

Tom. (Who has been standing in doorway c. to 
L J No. Wait a minute. I want to explain. (Exits 
hurriedly l.3E.^ 

Reginald. (Comes out of r.ie., laughing, as if 
puzzled. Points out c. to l., then r.ieJ She re- 
ceived a letter from Professor James ! "Reserved a 
room" — What does that mean? (Enter Ruth l.ieJ 

In that case Tom will have to (Sees Ruth) 

Ruth! 

Ruth. (Coming doimi r.cJ Good morning, Mr. 
Black. I have some news for you. 

Reginald. Yes, Ruth? Wliy, what is it? 

Ruth. Mr. Harrington's father and sister are 
here 

Reginald. Why, that's not news, Ruth. I knew 
that. 

Ruth. Oh, but that's not all — Aunty is going to 
give an informal dance to-night in their honor. 

Reginald. Ye (Amazed) To-night! To- 
night ? 

Ruth. Yes, why not? 

Reginald. They're not going to stay over until 
then. 

Ruth. Oh, yes, they are! Aunty said so. (Sits 
R. of table.) 

Reginald. (Half laughing. Aside) Great 
Scott ! Poor Tom ! 

Ruth. I'm very glad. 

Reginald. Why ? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 47 

Ruth. Because you'll have to stay home one 
night, at least. 

Reginai,d. (Delighted) You want me to stay? 

RuTK. (Coldly) No — both of you. 

Reginald. (Crestfallen) Not me alone? But 

you do care some? Oh (Conies close, kneels 

and catches her hand.) But I'd stay home a year of 
nights if you only wanted me to, and would call me 
by my first name. 

Ruth. Well, you might try it once in a while — a 
— a — Reginald. (She rises and quickly gets on. other 
side of the table, leaznng him kneeling.) 

Reginald. (Rising and leaning across table) 
Won't you please come back and say that again ? 

Ruth. Wait till you've earned it by staying home 
one night. 

Reginald. (Bel! rings outside) That'll be to- 
night! May I have a dance? 

Ruth. (At door l.ieJ Perhaps. 

Reginald. (Catching her hand) The first? 

Ruth. (Looking at him sweetly) Yes. (Exits 
quickly l.ieJ 

Reginald. (Very happy) Well, I don't know! 
(Commences a little skirt dance — going up c, hack- 
ward) Ruth, Ruth, my dainty little Ruth (He 

humps into Nugata who is entering c. from r. with 
card on tray.) 

NuGATA. Yis. (^Reginald takes the card and 
comes dozvn R.c.J 

Reginald. (Reading) "Mr. and Miss Daven- 
ant!" More of them! 

(Enter Dan and Marian c. from r. Marian is 
dressed in the height of fashion, and carries 
herself zuell. Dan is dressed in a long Prince 
Albert coat, dark vest and trousers short enough 
to show above ankles of hoots which he wears. 
He carries a wide, soft Western hat, and wears 



48 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

a low collar turning out at the points, with a 
string tie. He is a man of about fifty, gray, and 
slightly hold. He has chin whiskers. His nose 
is red. Exit Nugata.) 

Dan. (Sizing up the place) Wal, it looks re- 
spectable, and they all said 'twas, so I'd gamble we're 
in the right place. (Sees Reginald^ 'Scuse me, 
stranger, but is this Mrs. Wiggins' boardin' house? 
("Marian stands l.c.J 

Reginald. ("r.c.J It is. 

Dan. It's all right, Mary Ann. (She sits on 
chair R. of table l.J You see, stranger, I'm a-lookin' 
for the best place in Berkeley. Dan Davenant's got 
money, d' y' understand ? And he's goin' to give his 
daughter the best lodgin's in the hull diggin's, if 
money can buy 'em. 

Marian. (Remonstrating) Father ! 

Reginald. Most assuredly, Mr. Davenant. My 
name is Black — Reginald Black. This is one of the 
best boarding houses here. 

Dan. So I thought ! So I thought ! That's what 
they told my darter, Mary Ann. 

Marian. Marian, father. 

Dan. My darter, Mar-eye-ann, over in the city. 
Darter — Mr. Black. (He indicates Reginald with a 
wave of the hand, and turns up l., looking at the 
room. Marian advances to Reginald and extends 
her hand.) 

Marian. I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Black. 
(He bows.) One of the college boys, I suppose? 
(He nods again.) You must pardon my father's 
frank manner. He has lived up in the Sierras all his 
life and is a little rough in his ways. 

Dan. (Who has heard the last part. L.c.j You 
bet your sweet life. Black. I come from Angels' 
Camp, and I've got all kinds of rocks. I always 
want my darter to be comfortable, d' y' understand? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 49 

Why, last night we stopped at the Palace Hotel. I 
guess that's about the best you've got. 

Reginald. Angels' Camp! Palace Hotel! (He 
is struck with an idea. Business. Looks at Marian. 
Aside) By Jove! The gold saber! 

Dan. Wal, I guess so ! We went to a bang-kay 
over there last night. 

Reginald. Now I'm sure. (In awed voice) 
Poor Tom! 

(Enter Mrs. Wiggins R.3E.J 

Mrs. Wiggins. Ah, sir, I have just heard that 
you have come. (She stands up c. Dan l.c. 
Marian l. hy table. Reginald r.c., from where 
he introduces.) 

Reginald. Mrs. Wiggins, the landlady — Mr. and 
Miss Davenant. (^Mrs. Wiggins and Dan shake 
for a long time. Mrs. Wiggins finally zvithdrazvs 
her hand. Note.* Be careful not to continue too 
long to spoil next laugh.) I must find Tom. (He 
runs L.3E., and looks in.) Tom! (Runs out c. to 
L.) Tom ! 

Dan. Blame glad to know yeh, ma'am. I'm 
bringin' my darter here to be finished. I want her 
to board with you. Yeh just give her the best on the 
ranch, and I'm willin' to pay for it, d' y' understand? 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Lifting both hands impressively, 
and letting them fall) Somebody — willing — to — 
pay! Do I understand! Very distinctly. And you? 

Dan. Oh, I'm only goin' to stay a couple of hours. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Then I have a room that will suit 
her upstairs. 

Marian. (Stopping) Oh, yes, Mrs. Wiggins — 
if any letters come for me 

Mrs. Wiggins. Letters! You get letters, too? 
Excuse me, sir. 



50 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Dan. Yes. 

Mrs. Wiggins. It's customary to pay in advance. 

Dan. That so ? How much ? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Forty dollars a month — in real 
money, not in letters. 

Dan. (Pulling out roll) How about bills ? Here 
— here's six months in advance. (^Mrs. Wiggins 
almost faints.) Give the change to Mary Ann. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Most certainly, sir. Come, my 
dear. (^Mrs. W^iggins leads way out R.3E. and up- 
stairs. Marian follows her, and Dan, who remains 
c, looks about. He peeps through door L.3E. Gives 
happy glance about.) 

Dan. (Going) Gosh, but I'm dead for a smoke. 
I wonder where I can introduce myself to a wooden 
Indian. (Exits R.3E. and upstairs.) 

(There is a short wait, and Roberts' head appears 
cautiously through r.ie. He looks around, and 
seeing no one, comes silently down to c. and 
gazes out.) 

Roberts. (In a low, awestruck voice) I wonder 
what Mama would say ! (He zvaits.) I seem to be 
a Professor, all wight. But I don't know geometry 
from a golf stocking. (Enter Byron c. from l.) 
I wonder how much longer those fellahs 

Byron. (Coming down r.c.J Ah, Professor, glad 
to meet you again. 

Roberts. (Losing all his assurance and quaking. 
Faintly) Oh, ye-es ! 

Byron. You seem to have a fine town here. 

Roberts. fL.c, as Tom taught him) Oh, ye-es ! 
Our town is quite a — a — town. 

Byron, (r.c.) By the way, I wanted to ask you 
something. Won't you sit down? (Motions sofa 
R. Roberts crosses and sits r. on sofa. Byron sits 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 51 

also on sofa to his h.) You have had my son Thomas 
in some of your classes, haven't you? 

Roberts. (Nervously) Oh, ye-es ! 

Byron. Now, I wanted to find out what kind of 
work he has been doing. 

Roberts. Coarse work. 

Byron. Eh? 

Roberts. "Work in my course. 

Byron. Now, I never had any such opportunities 
as he has. I am a self-made man. I sudied by the 
light of a pine-wood fire many a night, and all my 
education, sir — and I pride myself that I knov/ a 
thing or two — was secured, sir, in that way. 

Roberts. (In tone conveying ''just keep on, for 
goodness sake'') Oh, ye-es. 

Byron. Now, you teach? 

Roberts. Mathematics. 

Byron. Now, that was one of my strong points. 
("Roberts dodges zmth his knee and almost faints.) 
My son's also. You gave him a medal in that. 

Roberts. (Weakly) Oh, ye-es. 

Byron. Well, well, I'm glad to hear you say so. 
And how far has he gone? 

Roberts. (Scared out of his wits. Aside) How 
far has he gone? Good gwacious ! (Making a ter- 
rible bluff and bazviing up the last in an extra effort 
as he hurries it out. Aloud) I think he's gone al- 
most as far as pazazza quadroons. 

Byron. (Nodding) But has he 

Roberts. (Gaining courage. He has stolen a 
look, and sees Byron is not on) Oh, ye-es ! He is 
all through with allah-pa-lallahs, and bi-examiners, 
including cracker jack razusas. 

Byron. (Slightly stunned, but still convinced) 
I see! I see! Ahem! I think I went nearly that 
far myself. 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es! 



52 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Byron. But what else does he shine in besides 
Mathematics ? 

Roberts. What else? (Aside) He never told 
me. (Aloud) Oh, he's a fine Gweek student. 

Byron. Greek! Well, well, well! I'm glad to 
hear that. 

Roberts. (A shade of joshing in his tone) Is 
that another of 3^our strong points? 

Byron. No ! No ! But it has been my one de- 
sire to have a son who could speak in the grand old 
language of the ancients. (Pleased) Ah! He's 
just like his father. 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es. (Rising, very nervously) 
But good-bye. I must be going. 

Byron. (Rising and shaking hands) Good day, 
sir. I'm glad to have heard such a good report of 
my son from you. (Goes l. to table and sits r. of it. 
Exit Roberts r.ie. Byron turns hacJc.) He can 
speak Greek ! Well, well ! (Enter Tom L.3E., and 
comes down c. Byron 7'ises and goes to him, shak- 
ing Tom's hand) Ah, Thomas, my son, congratu- 
lations ! 

Tom. (Confidentlv) Oh, don't mention it. 
(Pause.) What is if? 

Byron. Professor James tells me you are a fine 
student. 

Tom. (Aside) Bless that Freshman! 

Byron. I am glad to learn this, my boy. And 
also that you speak Greek fluently. 

Tom. Confound that Freshman ! 

Byron. (Sitting again r. of table h.) Now, I 
want you to show me how you do it. Give me a lit- 
tle speech. 

Tom. Greek? (Aside) Here's where I fall ofif 
the roof. 

Byron. Yes. 

Tom. Oh, a Greek speech! (Aside) Well, I 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 53 

suppose I'll have to give it to him. (Aloud) Will 
you have Monte Cristo's address to the Ephesians, 
or Ajax defying the lightning? 

Byron. You might give me the first one. It 
seems to me I've heard of Monte Cristo. 

Tom. Let's see, — it begins: (With great flour- 
ishes) Oskey-wow-wow ; VVhiskey-wee-wee ; O-ley 
— muckey-eye; O-ley Berekeley-eye ; Cali-/or-nia- 
eye ; Wow ! 

Byron. (Slapping his knee) Good! Good! 
("Roberts enters suddenly in his pink shirt sleeves, 
minus zvig and zvJiiskers. Before Byron sees him, 
Tom rushes him in the door, and slams the door 
quickly, making tableau zvith his back to tJie door, 
and his right hand stretched out.) Capital, my son ! 
Capital ! (Aside, chuckling) Just like his father ! 
(He goes up to door c.) 

Tom. (Going r. to in front of sofa) Father, do 
you take the one or the two train? 

Byron. (Stopping at door c.) When? 

Tom. This afternoon. 

Byron. Not after that speech. We shall stay 
over till tomorrow morning. (Exits c. to L.J 

Tom. (Dropping, astonished, on sofa) What! 
Not going away to-day! (Makes motions) I see 
my finish. And just when I had things going so 
beautifully! (Enter Roberts r.ie. in his shirt 
sleeves, as before.) Oh, I forgot you. Freshman. 
Get in there! (He pushes him in r.ie. Roberts 
protests in loud voice. The door closes.) 

(Enter Dan from upstairs R.3E.) 

Dan. (Coming dozmi, and still looking around) 
Wal, I'm dog-goned if I ain't alone at last. I won- 
der where a feller can get a cigar. I feel sort of — 
of caved in, after last night. (-L.c.) And that young 



54 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Leftenant — say, wasn't he a gentleman! Wal, I 

guess. He could (Enter Nugata c. from r., 

and goes toward R.3E.) Say! (Nugata stops.) 
You goo-goo-eyed son of a Mikady. 

Nugata. Yis. 

Dan. Now, confidential-like, I want to ask you a 
question. (Gives him a tip.) 

Nugata. (Pleased) Yis. 

Dan. Could you get me a smoke ? 

Nugata. Yis. (Exits hurriedly R.3E.J 

Dan. (Smiling and happy) I thought I'd never 
get my mornin' puff. Couldn't leave my darter be- 
fore. Now, a good, fat cigar — (Raising his right 

arm) — alius warms the cockles of yer heart 

(Stops, petrified, as Nugata has come in R.3E. with 
two lighted punk sticks in his hand. There must be 
enough to make a smoke. Dan is excited.) I 
wanted a smoke! Not a Chinese funeral. Is that 
all you've got ? 

Nugata. (Puzzled) Yis. 

Dan. Then where can I get one? 

Nugata. (Frightened) Yis. (Retreats to R.3E.J 

Dan. (Noiv puzzled) I guess you're kinder lo- 
coed, ain't ye? 

Nugata. Yis. (Exits R.3E.J 

Dan. Wal, I'll soon find some one who will tell 
me. (Exit c. to r. Enter Tom r.ie.J 

Tom. (Calling hack) Now, don't you forget, 
your name is James, — Professor James. I ought to 
know what 3^our name is — Professor William James. 
(Enter real Professor James during this speech. 
He comes in briskly from R. to c. He is dressed in 
a cutaway frock coat, and is a young man. He wears 
small side whiskers, simply enough to indicate aqe. 
He carries a smaU grip, an overcoat and hat. He 
comes down l. and places his hat and coat on table 
L. and comes across toward Reginald and 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 55 

Tom. Hands Tom a card. Tom takes it and 
reads) "Professor William James." ("Reginald 
enters c. and comes down to Tom. Tom falls speech- 
less into Reginald's amis. Reginald lets him down 
on sofa.) Talk to him, Reggie. I'm speechless ! 

Reginald. (Meeting JamesJ Pleased to meet 
you, Professor James ; but you know, we — we — I — 

I — ^you know (Going back to TomJ Oh, hang 

it, I can't ! 

Tom. (As Roberts' voice is heard off r. expostu- 
lating) All right. A few more lies can't hurt me. 
Quiet that Freshman, and I'll get rid of him. ("Reg- 

INALD exits R.IE.J 

James. Excuse me, sir 

Tom. Yes, this is the place, but you see we're full. 

James. Eh? 

Tom. The house, I mean, I'm awfully sorry, but 
we can't accommodate you. Good-bye. (Trying to 
jostle him out) Sorry you called. 

James. (Coming back) Stop, sir, what do you 
mean? I engaged rooms by letter. 

Tom. (Still jostling him) Yes, I know; but 
they're gone now. Good-bye. (Comedy, hurry 
music of a light, snappy character is now played 
pianissimo, to the curtain.) 

James. But I 

Tom. Of course not — but quick, someone is com- 
ing. In here 

James. (Expostulating. Tom pushes him to- 
ward L.3E.J But I don't understand this treatment. 

Tom. Of course not. (Pushes him in L.3E. and 
shuts door.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Enters R.3E. Crosses to Tom, 
who stands in her way) 1 wish to go in. 

Tom. What for? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Towels. 



56 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Tom. You shan't. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Why not ? 

Tom. (Loudly) Because (Politely) Our 

room is in order. We were out last night. 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Suspiciously) You're very con- 
siderate of me. (Exits c. to l.) 

Tom. Always considerate. (Opens door L.3E. 
and brings James out.) Professor James ! 

James. (Off l.) Yes! ("Tom brings him in 
L.3E.; 

Tom. Now, we can't accommodate you, so go. 
Please go! 

James. But I engaged a room 

Tom. Yes, I know; but you must — quick! Be- 
hind this screen — someone else. (Puts James back 
of screen up R.c.j 

Dan. (Enters c. from-R. Goes doivn l.c. Tom 
dozmi r.c.) Ah, someone at last ! I couldn't find 
that— What! Why, it's the Le f tenant ! Why, 
howdy, Leftenant Thomas. 

Tom. (Absolutely astounded. Almost faints) 
What! You here! 

Dan. Yes. Now, can you tell me 

Tom. But you've got to go 

Dan. Can you tell me 

Tom. (Desperately. Half aside) I can tell any- 
body anything. I'm a professional liar. (Stopping 
shaking hands and taps his chest.) But, see here, 
wait till you've seen your daughter. 

Dan. My darter? 

Tom. Yes. She's sick or something, and wants 
to see you right away. 

Dan. Mary Ann! Oh, gosh! (Exits hurriedly 
R.3E.; 

Tom. (Runs back to James, who is coming out 
from behind the screen) Now go. Will you? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 57 

James. (Coming down l.cJ I don't understand 
— where are my hat and coat ? 

Tom. (Picking up Roberts' short overcoat and 
small hat from floor back of sofa rJ Here they are. 
(He puts them- on James, who protests all the while. 
The hat is too small and the overcoat reaches only 
to his waist.) Look out ! (Shoves him again behind 
the screen and comes down c.) 

Byron. (Coming down l.c.^ Thomas, I've been 
looking for you. 

Tom. (Enter Mrs. Wiggins c. from l.) That 
settles it! 

Mrs. Wiggins. Dinner is served! (Enter Dan 
R.3E., waving arms.) 

Dan. (Doum r.c.J What do you mean, sir, by 

sendin' me 

Tom. (c. Enter Ruth l.ie.J Now, don't get 
excited. Don't get excited— it was all a mistake. 
("Reginald enters r.ie.J 

Reginald. What's the matter? (Enter Roberts 
R.iE., arid Reginald holds him hack.) 

Dan. Why, this 

Byron. (Who has gone up and sees James hack 
of screen) What's this ? (Brings James down c.) 
All. What's this? 
Roberts. He's got my hat ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. What are you doing here ? Who 
are you? ("Tom takes horn and flag from piano.) 
All. Yes. Who? 

James. (Badly rattled) James — ^you know — 
James. 

Tom. (Stepping between Mrs. Wiggins and 
JamesJ Yes, James — you know — James Wobberts, 
Fresliman. (He shoves a gaudy blue and gold flag 
into one of James' hands and a horn with large rib- 



58 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

bons of the same color into the other. James stands, 
holding them.) 

CURTAIN 



(The hurry music is now played forte. Roberts 
making wild efforts to attract attention, but Reg- 
inald holding him. Tom zvhirling James 
around and forcing him toward door l.ie.J 



SECOND CURTAIN 



ACT II 

(Orchestra silent.) 

(The curtain down: Marian on stage plays short 
introduction and sings i6 bars of ''Last Walts/' 
by Molloy. Curtain rises while she is singing 
(just afterward if singing is by someone else). 
The same scene is disclosed. Marian is seated 
at piano l.) 

Marian. (Singing) "After to-night, after to- 
night, what will to-morrow be? You in the light, I 
in the night, out on the rolling sea." (Curtain rises. 
She strikes a few notes and lets accompanmient die 
ozuay. Swings around on stool, and, resting her l. 
elbow on piano, ga^es dreamily before her — speak- 
ing) Ah, how he sang it ! "You in the light, I in the 
night; out on the rolling sea." (Sighs) Ah! My 
Lieutenant ! How handsome he was ! And what a 
brave, soldierly air! And now he's gone^ — perhaps 
never to return. Ah — but he said he should, and I 
will believe him. "Remember me, Marian. I am 
going far away to that country of jungles and sav- 
ages. If I do not return — " Oh, he will ! Some- 
thing tells me that I shall see him again. (Feels 
saber at her throat.) The little saber! Indeed, I 
will remember him! And to think that, even now, 
he is hundreds of miles away from me, out on the 
deep, deep ocean. 

(Enter Tom, gesticulating, L.3E. He does not see 
Marian because of piano lamp to l. of piano. 
Marian sits playing very softly on piano. Tom 
crosses R. and sits on sofa.) 
59 



6o A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Tom. (Aside) Well, I have made a beautiful 
mess of it! And the worst of it is — I can't draw 
back. But how could I know that things would turn 
out as they have? The idea of that real Professor 
turning up, and the miner Davenant, and Alarian ! I 
wonder if he has told her yet. She wasn't at lunch- 
eon. Oh, that luncheon ! I thought I'd choke a 
dozen times. I had to talk all the time to keep that 
Professor still. But there's one thing : I'm glad he's 
such a freak, because I can put it over him for a 
while. But, Marian — I wonder how I can ever 

square myself (He has risen and gone L.c. 

Marian has risen from stool, and comes around 
fable to L.c. They meet and almost bump before 
they see each other.) Oh — ah — excuse me! 

Marian. You, you're (Astonished) What! 

Why — Lieutenant Thomas! 

Tom. (Slightly nervous, but self-possessed) Yes. 
Ha! Ha! I'm here. How do you do? 

Marian. Why — why — I thought — I thought — 
oh, dear! 

Tom. You thought I was gone, didn't you< But 
I'm not. I'm here. 

Marian. But — ^you said 

Tom. Yes, I said I was going. But — I was de- 
tained. 

Marian. (Delighted) And you're not going at 
all? 

Tom. W^ell, not for some time. You see, I've got 
to stay here. 

Marian. Why? 

Tom. Yes, why? (Thinks as he turns around r. 
and back.) Oh, you see, I've been sent here by the 
Government to take charge of the Military Depart- 
ment of the University — all the students drill, you 
know. 

Marian. Why, isn't that nice ! Then you'll stay 
here as Military Instructor? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 6i 

Tom. Well, not long. (Aside) Calculating my 
chances at present, that's no lie. 

Marian. Oh, that's too bad! 

Tom. But how long are you going to stay? 

Marian. All year. I'm going to take up some 
graduate studies. 

Tom. ("r.c. Aside) Great Scott! (Aloud) Isn't 
that nice! 

Marian. Yes, isn't it? Then we'll see a great 
deal of one another? 

Tom. I hope so. (Aside) If I live through it. 

Marian. I'm sure we will. How strange, our 
meeting here. (She crosses and sits on sofa R.) 

Tom. Yes. 

Marian. (Dreamily) After last night — the 
music, — the lights, — the 

Tom. (Starting to sit beside her) The feed! 

Marian. (Surprised) What! 

Tom. (Springing up again, confused, and bow- 
ing) Oh, that is — I mean, — ^the — the — oh, you know. 

Marian. No. I don't understand what you 
mean. 

Tom. (Brushing his forehead) Miss Marian, I 
don't exactly know what I mean this afternoon, my- 
self. 

Marian. (Offended) Then you are in the habit 
of saying things you do not mean? 

Tom. Yes — that is — no ! I was talking of this 
after — last night — this afternoon. I meant every 
word I said last night. 

Marian. I had believed so. You said you would 
always hold my image next your heart. 

Tom. (Half puzzled) Did I say that? 

Marian. (Surprised) Why ! 

Tom. Of course. I remember — ^}'Our image. 
And, Marian, I have it here still. Do you think I'd 
forget ? 

Marian. Oh, forgive me. But 



62 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Tom. This morning when I awoke, my tirst 
thought was of you. 

Marian. And — and you sent me this little re- 
membrance. 

Tom. Yes. Can't you trust me? 

Marian. I do trust you. 

Tom. You're about the only one that does. 

Marian. Why shouldn't I? 

Tom. Yes, why shouldn't you? (A short pause.) 
But, Marian, you won't lose by it. (A little sadly) 
I may be a bad one. But somehow I pay in the long 
run. I — I — well, you're a trump. Stand by me for a 
while — won't you? 

Marian. Stand by you? 

Tom. Yes. I asked you last night to wait for 
me. Well, though I am not to go away, I don't know 
how long it may be before I can really ask you, you 
know — but some day — if I come to you — will you 
be waiting for me ? (She is silent.) I know I may 
be butted out into the world to kick for myself right 
to-day, and it may be a long pull back, but — Marian 
— will you be waiting for me? 

Marian. Yes. (He embraces her.) And we'll 
announce it to everyone right away. (Rises.) 

Tom. Yes. Ah — no! (Coming out of his trance, 
and rising) Oh — I'd forgotten. 

Marian. No? 

Tom. No. I think we'd better wait until to-mor- 
row. (Very nervously.) 

Marian. (Hurt) Why not to-day? 

Tom. (Confidentially) Thirteenth! 

Marian. (Happy again) Oh, so it is ! I had 
forgotten. (Going l.c.J To-morrow! 

Tom. Yes — the day after my funeral. 

Marian. After what? 

Tom. I said the day after the dance. 

Marian. Ah! You are going? 

Tom. I suppose so. Which may I have? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 63 

Marian. Any you wish. 

Tom. Well — (Comes close) — make it the first 
fox-trot, the first one-step, the second fox-trot, the 
second 

Marian. Oh, dear, that will do — for the present. 

Tom. But I may have others? 

Marian. Perhaps. 

Tom. The first fox-trot, anyway. 

Marian. Yes. (Going R.3E.J I wish to thank 
you again for this dear saber. 

Tom. (With airy disdain) Don't mention it. A 
mere trifle! (Stops her) Just a moment. (She 
comes down.) 

Marian. ('r.c.J Yes. 

Tom. (l.c. Stealthily) I know you can keep a 
secret. 

Marian. A secret? 

Tom. Yes. (Mysteriously) You have noticed 

the old gent with the whiskers ? (Indicates 

side-burns.) 

Marian. Mr. Harrington? 

Tom. Sh-h! Yes. It's too bad, but I feel it is 
my duty to tell you. 

Marian. (Frightened) Why, what's the mat- 
ter? 

Tom. This morning he came over on the same 
boat with me. I know his secret. 

Marian. Secret? 

Tom. Yes. You must keep away from him and 
his daughter. 

Marian. Why? 

Tom. Why? (Turns and does mysterious busi- 
ness to gain time.) I suppose I oughtn't to tell on 
the old gent, but this morning he,- 



Marian. (Working up) Yes, he- 

ToM. He 

Marian. He 



64 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Tom. (Dropping the suspense) He came over 
on the same boat with me. 

Marian. (Half provoked) So you said ; but is 
that any reason why I should stay away from him? 

Tom. No. You must stay away from them be- 
cause — because he and his daughter have escaped 
from the steamer China, which is held in quarantine 
because of the halangalang fever on hoard. 

Marian. (Horrified) What! The balangalang 
fever ! 

Tom. (Nods) Don't go near them! 

Marian. Well. I should think not ! Ah, how can 
I repay you? How kind of you to think of my 
safety ! 

Tom. Yes, isn't it? 

Marian. (Going R.3E.J My Lieutenant ! (Exit 
R.3E.; 

Tom. (Stands musing) Poor girl! That I 
should deceive such a trusting soul! Announce it 
to everyone! That would have butted me off the 

roof. Let's see (Counting fingers R.c, facing 

left) There's father, Davenant, Marian, James, 
Wobberts, and — well that settles it. There's only 
one thing left to do, and that is to go up in a balloon 
and let them fight it out among themselves. (Gases 
L. Enter Reginald r.ie., dressed as in Act I. He 
slams the door. Tom jumps, but, recognising him, 
rushes to him and tries to clasp his hand.) Ah, there 
you are, at last, my true, noble friend. Tell me 

Reginald. (Stepping back, and looking at him) 
Well, you have done it, haven't you? (Laughs 
heartily.) 

Tom. Reggie, don't reproach me, I can't stand 
it. Do 3^ou suppose I can help it? (^Reginald 
laughs again.) That's right, laugh! I tell you, old 
man, this is no laughing matter. Now, suppose that 
Freshman 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 65 

^ Reginald. Oh, don't worry about him. I de- 
cided he ought to be sick, so I put him to bed. 

Tom. But the other— the real Professor James. 

Reginald. The real Professor James ? (Laughs.) 

Tom. Yes, what are we going to do with him? 

Reginald. Oh, he's easy. All vou have to do is 
to bulldoze him. (Looks at his' zvatch.) But I 
thought you had to go to the Gymnasium this after- 
noon to see Magee. Aren't you going? 
^ Tom. Vvhat? Leave the field of battle when a 
smgle blunder may cost me my life? No, sir! I'll 
cut Gymnasium ! 

Reginald. What? Cut Gym? 

Tom. Yes, cut Gym ! 

Reginald. All right, do as you please. But look 
out for Magee. 

Tom. Oh, don't worry. You hunt up Dulcie. 
She mustn't be allowed to wander around alone. 

(Exit Reginald L.3E. Tom c. to l. Enter James 
l.ie., dressed as in Act L) 

James. (He is very assertive, and talks sharply 
and emphatically) Most extraordinary. I have 
never seen anything like it. What a strange lot of 
people. They talk to each other without the least 
bit of meaning. "Wobberts"— now that was what 
that young man called me all the time. I wonder 
what he means ? Most extraordinary ! (Enter Nu- 
gata R.3E. James r.c. looking after him as he goes 
across to dust table l.) Ah, someone! Now I'll 
find out! (Going over to NugataJ Ahem! Ex- 
cuse me, sir, but I wanted to ask you something. 

Nugata. Yis. 

James. You are a servant here? 

Nugata. Yis. 

James. Well, then, you can tell me. Does every- 



66 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

one act this way all the time? Are they just right 
here? (Taps his forehead.) 

NUGATA. Yis. 

James. Well, they don't act like it, sir. They 
don't act like it ! 

NuGATA. (Frightened) Yis. 

James. You contradict me, sir? You're as bad 
as the rest, sir. ("Nugata hacks toward door c.) 
As bad as the rest. 

NuGATA. Yis. (He backs out c. to h.) 

James. (Returning to R.c, disgusted) Bah, I 
don't understand it. Now my ethical principles al- 
low for no such conduct as this. Everyone acts as 
though he (Enter Dulcie c. from r. hur- 
riedly.) 

DuLciE. Tom ! 

James. (Turning) Eh? 

DuLciE. fL.c.j Oh, excuse me. (Aside) The 
Freshman Tom introduced me to. (Aloud) I 
thought you were my brother. 

James. (Pettishly) Very well, very well. 
(Aside) Now, I wonder if this Httle girl could tell 
me? 

Dulcie. ("James is about to speak, but she stops 
him by saying shyly) Have you been up to college 
yet? 

James. No. I just arrived a short time ago, I — 
I 

Dulcie. Of course, vou're a little confused at 
first. 

James. Well, ahem! I must confess that I am. 

Dulcie. Don't mind; they all are at first. 

James. Oh, arc they? 

Dulcie. Yes. But Tom knows what you must 
do. He will tell you all about it. Just ask him. 
He'll initiate you. 

James. (Astonished) Initiate me? Oh, h&ivill! 
And, pray, who is Tom? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 67 

DuLCiE. My brother. The one who introduced 
you when you came. 

James. Oh, that fellow! Will he explain all 
this ? Are you sure ? 

DuLCiE. Oh, yes. He knows everything-. Are 
you going to the dance to-night? 

James. (Disgusted) Dance ? 

DuLCiE. Yes. There's going to be one here — in 
honor of me. Now — I shall give yoti a dance. 

James. Ah, really, my dear child! 

DuLCiE. (Starting) Sir? 

James. Oh, I mean now, little girl, you can't ex- 
pect me to dance with you. I ? I ? Why, the idea ! 

DuLCiE. (Offended) Thank you, sir, I'm not a 
little girl. I'll be a Freshman myself in another 
year. 

James. But, really, to one of my age, such pleas- 
ures are not at all suitable. You must run away and 
find someone else to play with. 

DuLCiE. (Angrily stamping her foot) Sir? How 
dare you speak to me like that — (Almost crying) — 

when I did you the honor (Angry) Oh, it 

serves me right for expecting anything of a — a — 
Freshman ! 

James. (Apologizing) Really, now, my child 

fToM enters hurriedly c. from R. He comes down 
c. rapidly. Dulcie breaks down and commences to 
sob when she sees him.) 

Tom. Ah, there you are, Dulcie ! 

Dulcie. Oh, Tom, where have you' been? I — 
I 

Tom. Why, what's the matter? 

Dulcie. Oh, you don't know zvhat he's been say- 
ing to me! 

Tom. (Excited) Don't you believe him, Dulcie. 
It's not so. 

Dulcie. What isn't? 

Tom. Er — eh — a — what he's been saying. 



68 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

DuLCiE. (Pouting) Of course it isn't. He said 
I was a little girl, and told me — (Airily) — to run 
away and play. 

Tom. (Relieved) Oh, ivas that all! 

DuLCiE. All? Isn't that enough? I offered to 
give him a dance, and he absolutely refused. 

Tom. (hi mock anger) Oh, the wretch! 

DuLCiE. (i..c.) You'd do well to teach him some 
better manners. Why don't you, Tom? 

Tom. (c.) Oh, yes — better manners ! (Turning 
to James) Why don't you have better manners, 
Mr. Wobberts? 

James. fR.c. Nervously) Don't talk to me of 
manners. And if you please, sir, I wish to have you 
distinctly understand that my name is James. Do 
you understand ? James ! 

Tom. (With mock modesty) Well, ahem — I 
really didn't think I knew you well enough for that 
— but if you insist, I suppose I'll have to call you 
James. (With glance at DulcieJ Or if you prefer 
to be more sociable, we might call you Jim or Jimmy! 
(Laughs.) 

James. Jimmy ? Bah ! 

DuLCiE. (Crossing Tom to r. and going up) I 
hope you'll teach your friend, (Turns hack to 
James) Jimmy, a few things about common polite- 
ness. (Exits c. to R.J 

James. (Looking after her) Jimmy! Bah! 
(Jumping angrily at TomJ Now, see here, sir, I 
want to find out, sir, the meaning of all this. She 
said you knew all about it. Why am I called Wob- 
berts? Why does everyone treat me so strangely? 
Are they all idiots ? 

Tom. (Who has been standing calmly) Now, 
hold on. Don't get excited. If there's anything I 
hate, it is to see a man get excited. There is nothing 
to rave about. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 69 

James. Oh, isn't there? Then perhaps I am an 
idiot. 

Tom. Well, that's not my fault. 

James. Your fault ! Of course, I'm not an idiot. 

Tom. (Politely) Well, you said you were. 

James. (Very angry) Not at all. I — I — insist 
on an explanation. 

Tom. You do? 

James. Yes, I do. 

Tom. You're easy. 

James. What ! 

Tom. It's easy. If you must have an explanation, 
I'm the man to give it to you. 

James. You are? 

Tom. Yes. But you're making a big fuss for 
nothing. It is all a matter of your answering a sim- 
ple question. 

James. Well? 

Tom. (Seriously) Well, suppose a fellow — a 
sort of happy-go-lucky fellow — had gotten himself 
into a fix when he didn't mean to, and was sorry — 
real sorry, — for his conduct. Suppose he was about 
to be expelled from college for his misdeeds. Now, 
if he promised to do better and really meant it, would 
you help him to do so and keep his bad record from 
— from his parents? 

James. I? If Of course not! If the fellow 
wasted his time, he deserves no mercy. I would 
show him none. 

Tom. (Sadly) You believe in showing no mercy! 

James. None! But what of the explanation, sir? 

Tom. No mercy ! Here goes ! You probably 
didn't get my letter ? 

James. Your letter? 

Tom. In regard to joining our faculty fraternity. 

James. Faculty fraternity? 

Tom. Yes. Have you ever heard of the Uni- 
versity of California, Roberts Society? CJames 



70 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

shakes his head.) I notified you in a letter that you 
were to become a member. Your name is James. 
You become a Roberts. As a member, you are 
James Roberts. 

James. A member of the faculty secret society? 

Tom. Yes. I am Lieutenant Thomas Harring- 
ton, in charge of the military department. I was 
delegated to receive you. 

James. (Relieved) Oh, you belong to the fac- 
ulty ! 

Tom. (Bracing up) Yes. I receive you into our 
organization. 

James. But — but — I — I — don't understand. 

Tom. Oh, but you will. First: We have a Rob- 
erts Society here, to which every member of the fac- 
ulty belongs. Is that clear? 

James. (Based) Yes. But we don't have one 
at your rival college — Stanford. 

Tom. Well, that's strange! 

James. But 

Tom. Second: You have been invited to join our 
society. Is that clear? 

James. Yes. But 

Tom. Third: You have been accepted. (Warm- 
ly) Congratulations, sir; congratulations. 

James. (Helplessly) But I — I don't understand. 

Tom. (Patronizingly) Never mind, it isn't ex- 
pected at first. You want to look up a few things, 
that's all — the grip, the sign, the password, and — 

and (Inspiration) "Roberts Rules of Order." 

"Roberts,'* you see, that's where we get our name. 
(^James is overcome. Tom impressively) To-day 
you must serve as a novice under me. 

James. A novice? 

Tom. Yes. You see, I am to initiate you. 

James. (Convinced) So the little girl said. But 
what does it mean? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 71 

Tom. The initiation requires that the novice shall 
serve as a Freshman for one day. 

James. What ! 

Tom. (Sternly) Such is the task that the Soci- 
ety has imposed. 

James. (Angry) Nonsense! I'll do nothing of 
the sort. 

Tom. (Courteously) Then I am to tell the Presi- 
dent that you refuse to join? (Going.) 

James. (Overcome again) Ah — well — no, no! 
Wait a minute ! This is entirely new. 

Tom. Well, I should think so! 

James. Let me think. 

Tom. Certainly — if you can. 

James. But why must I be a Freshman ? 

Tom. Because necessity demands it. (Aside) 
And that's no lie. 

James. But why does necessity demand it? 

Tom. (Angrily) Do you suppose I can stand 
here all day? You've had time enough. Either you 
join, or you don't. Which is it? (Seems about to 

go.) 

James. Just a moment — most extraordinary. 
('Tom starts again.) Very well, very well. I'll join 
conditionally until I see the President. 

Tom. (Aside) Ah, by that time I'll be safe ! 

James. But the passwords — the grip, and 

Tom. Oh, I forgot. We shake so. (Grabs his 
hand, pulls it up high, then down low, causing 
James to lose his balance slightly.) Our password 
is a tune, which is whistled so : (Whistles several 
bars of any college song. James feebly puckers his 
lips, but makes no sound.) Now, the sign is given 
in three degrees. If you simply wish to call atten- 
tion, you do this : (Puts right thumb in right ear 
and zvaves fingers and hand, like a large donkey ear 
moving.) The second degree is when you are in 
great trouble. You do this: (Puts both thumbs in 



^2 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

ears and waves both hands. James imperfectly imi- 
tates him right along.) Now, if you are in extremi- 
ties, you give the third degree. This : (He slaps 
both hands on his knees, then right on his knee, then 
left; right, and then both again — then brings wrists 
together, in air, a la hypnotic, twice, and waves his 
hands three times at his ears as before. Note : 
The patting of knees and knocking of ztmsts in air 
is done in the familiar time of the ending of a clog 
step, pum, tidderum piim — pum — pum. Or to de- 
scribe it differently, its time is the familiar stamp of 
the college men after the "First in War," etc., or, 
''Sister Mary walks like this." James puts his knees 
alternately in a helpless, puzzled fashion.) Now, if 
you get into trouble, just give me the sign or the pass- 
word or song, I mean, and I'll put you right. 
Qames is completely overcome. Tom, smiling, taps 
him on the shoulder.) Think what it means to join 
such an organization! (Cheer is heard outside.) 

(Enter Dulcie c. from r. She runs down.) 

Dulcie. Tom! There's a large crowd outside 
drilling Freshies, and they want you to come out. 

Tom. All right. (Goes over.) Good-bye. (He 
shakes peculiarly. James puts his hand in his ear 
absent-mindedly. Exeunt Tom and Dulcie. Note: 
The idea is at this point for James to grow more 
nervous and acquire the habit of going through the 
motions of the signs at opportune times pointed out 
belozv.) 

James. Bah! What is the matter with me? 
Have I heard aright? (He silently does the hand- 
shake. Puts his thumb in his ear and attempts to 
whistle the password.) Extraordinary ! I might 
have expected it, though, from the actions of all 
the rest. What makes me so nervous ? Ah, I should 



A STRENUOUS LIFE j^ 

never have left Stanford. (Cheers outside — he is 
standing r.c, doing the same business.) 

("Byron enters c. from l. He gases out of window 
at rear in simple set — through conservatory 
glass in fancy — turns and looks at James and 
his peculiar motions. The latter turns around 
sloivly, still moving his hands until he sees 
Byron. He suddenly takes down his arm, 
abashed.) 

Byron. Well, well. Thomas is making a speech! 
(Sees James, and watches him.) Ah, nty boy, I 
wonder that you are not out in front. There is a 
great crowd there. 

James. I don't think I care to go. (He makes 
some motions and zvhistles under his breath.) 

Byron. My son's making a speech. (Goes to 
imndow.) Listen ! (Chorus outside: ''For he's a 
jolly good fellow," etc.) Ah, I tell you I'm proud 
of that boy, and he's popular, just like his father 
was. Why, he's a Lieutenant here. 

James. Are you sure? 

Byron. Of course I am. 

James. (Nods) Then it must all be true. (Does 
motions, turning as before and stopping when he sees 
DuLCiE enter c. fro^n r. She looks at him. At in- 
tervals outside cheers are heard.) 

DuLCiE. Papa, you should have heard Tom. He 

said (Mimicking him oratorically) *'As long 

as I am captain of the football team, the measuring 
of Freshies shall go on forever." (Looking at 
Jamesj Has — this person been measured? 

James. Why, no. I — I 

DuLCiE. Then, Papa, I'll tell Tom and Mr. Black, 
to come in and measure him. (Exits c. to R.) 

James. (Following her dozvn to c. door) Wait! 
Hold on ! I am not 



74 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Byron. (Who has follozued him down and brings 
him back) Now, my boy, don't object. You must 
have a military suit. Everyone has to get one. 
YouVe got to have it. 

James. ^r.c.J But I don't need a suit! (Enter 
DuLciE c. from r.) 

DuLciE. Here they come! 

(Enter Reginald in uniform of Lieutenant, drilling 
two or three Freshman either in football or mil- 
itary suits. Ruth and Marian Jiave drifted 
in back of conservatory, and watch next scene.) 

Reginald. Hip! Hip! Hip! Hip! Squad — 
halt! (To James, r.J Get into line, Freshie. 

James, (r.) I'll not do it. 

Reginald. What ! 

Byron, (^l. Becoming provoked) Come, come, 
now, my boy; don't disobey your officers. Fall in 
line Hke a good fellow. 

James. I say I won't. 

Reginald. Have you been measured? 

James. No. Nor I 

Reginald. Then, into line you go. (Shoves him 
into line c. The Freshmen are ranged parallel to 
rear flat along front of stage. James takes position 
at R.J 

James. (Very angry) See here, sir, this in an 
outrage. I'll report you, sir. I'll report you. 

Byron. (Working up anger) Don't you try to 
be angry, sir. It doesn't pay. 

James. Pay? Pay! Somebody will pay for this! 

Reginald. Get the step! Hip! Hip! (They 
mark time. Enter Tom c. from r. He comes down 
R.J Squad — halt! (Stops. Salutes.) 

Tom. (Sees James and laughs) Got 'em all, 
Lieutenant? (^James wildly signals first degree. 
Tom refuses to see him.) 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 75 

Byron. (Very angry) Tom, that Freshman re- 
fuses to do his duty. Admonish him. 

Tom. (Taken back) What! / admonish him ? 

Byron. Certainly. 

Tom. (In a mock commanding tone) Do your 
duty! 

• James. (Signalling second degree and coming 
out of line) Now, see here ! 

Reginald. Silence, sir. (Pitts him hack in line.) 
Attention ! 

Tom. About face! (Freshmen turn different 
ways awkzvardly. James stands still.) Right face! 
(Same business.) Right . face ! (Same business. 
Tom is disgusted.) Oh, face toward me. (They do 
so, making a line which James heads,) 

Reginald. Forward — March! (All start for- 
ward, but James refuses to budge, and so they all 
smash together. Byron is very angry.) 

Byron. (Wrathfully) Tell him to do as he is 
told! 

Tom. Do as you are told. 

James. (Stepping out again) Say, see here — I 
don't 

Reginald. (Putting him back and saluting TomJ 
Lieutenant, if this Freshman doesn't want to drill, 
perhaps we'd better put him under the ice-water 
shower. 

James. (Terrified) Ice water! Hold on! You'll 
do nothing of the sort! (Steps out and gives third 
degree.) 

Reginald. (Pulling him back) Silence in the 
ranks ! 

James. I protest. (If the audience continues 
laughing, he can jump out and give the signal again, 
with Reginald pulling him^ back once more.) 

Byron. (Who has been wildly walking back and 
forth) I'll lose my temper in a minute ! 

Reginald. Then it's ice water ! 



^e A STRENUOUS LIFE 

James. No, no! I appeal to you, sir. (To 
ByrgnJ Don't let them perpetrate this horrible out- 
rage. 

Byron. (Very angry) Don't you appeal to me, 
sir; yoic do as you are told! 

James. Bah ! 

Tom. Forward — ^march! ("Reginald catches 
James and leads him down c. and out — the Fresh- 
men following. As James goes, he is giving second 
degree signal. All off c. to r., except Tom and 
Byron, who follow them down. Shaking his fist.) 
Did you ever see anything like it, father? 

Byron. (k..c.) Never ! Never ! The impudent 
rascal! (Crosses l.J I haven't been so angry in 
years. ("Roberts enters suddenly r.ie., and Tom 
rushes him in again and shuts door just as Byron 
turns and comes hack.) There's something wrong 
with that Freshma7t. 

Tom. (Excited) Eh? What! Which Fresh- 
man? 

Byron. The one who refused to drill. 

Tom. (Relieved) Oh, the dummy ! 

Byron. He's wrong somehow. 

Tom. Of course. (Confidentially) Don't you 
know? 

Byron. Know what? 

Tom. It's a sad case. 

Byron. What do you mean ? 

Tom. Now, he's of a fine family, and all that, 

but (He makes motion indicating wheels in the 

head.) Buzzers ! 

Byron. You don't say ! Is he dangerous ? 

Tom. Didn't you see him? 

Byron. Yes, I remember. (Apes third degree 
signal.) What does that mean? 

Tom. Anarchist. Always resists authority. If 
you hadn't helped me, goodness only knows what he 
would have done. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE ^'j 

Byron. Well, I'd like to see him try. I'll show 
him there's one man that stands for authority. 

Tom. {Patting Byron's hack) That's right. 
That's right, father ! Stand for authority. Nobody 
wants him here. I've tried to keep him away. I 
can't do it. I guess we're both in for a general ex- 
plosion. 

Byron. (Swelling up) Well, we'll see about 
that. 

Tom. That's right. You just go outside and 
watch for him. If he tries to come in, throw him 
out. 

Byron. By gad, I will ! I didn't split rails when 
I was a boy for nothing. (Exits c to R.j 

Tom. (Looking after him) This is getting excit- 
ing ! But I've got to pull him away before there's a 
bust-up. I'll do it if I have to forge a telegram. 
Oh, I'm getting to be a double-dyed villian, but 
there's one consolation, my finish will be an ex- 
tremely brilliant one. (Exits L.3E.J 

Ruth. (Enter Ruth and Marian c. from R.j 
They measure Freshmen every year, poor fellows ! 

Marian. Measure? Why poor fellows? 

RuTii. They pretend to measure them for military 
suits first, and knock them about. Then they tie a 
football to one of the men's wrists and have the 
others rush him. 

Marian. Which do you suppose they'll rush? 

Ruth. Well, from the way that new Freshman 
acted, I think it will be coming to him. 

Marian. I love soldiers ! 

Ruth. (Pointing at saber) * Perhaps you mean a 
soldier. Isn't it pretty? 

Marian. (Unclasping it) Do you like it? 

Ruth. It's the sweetest thing. 

Marian. I have hardly had time to get a real 
good look at it myself. 



8 A STRENUOUS LIFE 



Ruth. (Surprised) Did you receive it so re- 
cently ? 

Marian. (^r.c.J Only this morning. It is dear. 

Ruth, ("l.c.j Tell me about it. 

Marian. (Sitting on sofa r.) It isn't a long 
story, and really, Ruth, I've just been dying to tell 
some one. 

Ruth. (Sitting beside her) Then tell me. 

Marian. He is tall, dark and handsome. (^Note.* 
She uses some common features of Tom and Reg- 
inald in adjectives.) 

Ruth. Yes. 

Marian. I met him last night for the first time. 
fRuTH nods.) It was in San Francisco, at a hotel 
with his regiment. 

Ruth. A soldier! I knew it! 

Marian. Yes, a soldier. But an officer and a 
gentleman. I sat with him all evening, and — and 
the lights were burning low, and he was going far — 
far across the ocean. 

Ruth. (Ecstatically) Yes ! 

Marian. Well — I just couldn't help it. Before 
the evening was over, I thought a great deal of him. 

Ruth. And the saber? 

Marian. This morning he sent me this dear lit- 
tle saber as a remembrance and that is why I prize 
it so highly. 

Ruth. Oh, then, he is on his way to the Philip- 
pines ? 

Marian. No, my dear, his plans were changed 
at the last moment, and he came here to Berkeley in- 
stead. 

Ruth. What! Is he here? 

Marian. Yes, in this very house. And this, morn- 
ing he asked me — asked me — (nods) — and I said — 
yes. 

Ruth. (Showing fear and concern) He asked? 
Who — who — What is his name ? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 79 

Marian. (Rising and looking about) You'll 
never— never tell? fRuTH shakes her head.) It 
was the one who was drilling those Freshmen Lieu- 
tenant Thomas! Mind, don't tell! (Goes up and 
out R.3E. and upstairs.) 

Ruth. No, I won't. (Astonished. Rising) 
Why— what does she mean? Reginald was drillincr 
those Freshmen. (Crosses l. and sits r. of table) 

Can it be that he (She gradually turns from 

anger to sorrow and weeps as Tom enters l ^e 
whistling.) ''^ '' 

Tom. Now, if that telegram doesn't take him 

(Sees Ruth; ^ Why, what's the matter, Ruth? 

Ruth. (Sitting up and drying her tears) Oh, 
Mr. Harrington, I'm so miserable. 
Tom. What is it? 

Ruth. You can help me. You were here with 
Mr. Black just now— you were with him in San 
Francisco last night — there were only you two. 
Tom. Yes. 

Ruth. Well, zvho is Lieutenant Thomas? 
Tom. (Ast07iished) Lieutenant Thomas? 
Ruth. It was either you or he. (Rises) Which 
of you is Lieutenant Thomas? 

Tom. Why— why. Black, of course. fRuTH 
gazes solemnly at him and marches angrily out R.3E., 
crossing up stage, and not between Tom and the 
audience. Tom follozvs her around with his eyes, 
titrmng—his back to the audience— -from left to 
right, and stops a second to see her go out. Then 
wheels quickly to the front. He looks at the audi- 
ence, then gazes down at footlights, perplexed) 
Now, I wonder what she wanted to know for Well 
I saved myself. That's one on Black! I must in- 
form him that he is Lieutenant Thomas. I'll give 
father this telegram— perhaps it'll take him away. 
(Shakes his head.) But every way I turn, I seem to 
be up against it, (This last at Roberts who puts 



So A STRENUOUS LIFE 

his head out of r.ie. Tom goes out c. to l. Rob- 
erts sticks his head out again, and seeing no one, 
walks dozvn r.c. He has all his bundles, etc.) 

Roberts. He called me an IT! Well, I'm tired 
of being it. I'll not stay here any longer. I've tried 
to get out of here three times to-day and every time 
I get to the door, they bring me back, and they — 
(Dropping his voice) — put me to bed. (He starts 
for c, but just then Dan comes in, c. from l., and 
he drops his bundles. Dan helps him pick them up 
and takes them-frofjt him.) 

Dan. What! Movin' in? Let me help you, 
(He takes things out and leaves them in r.ie., and 
returns. Roberts stands helpless.) 

Roberts. Oh, good gracious. I'll never get out 
of this place. 

Dan. (Crosses to L.c.j There you are. Fixed 
slick as a whistle. And I want to talk to ye. Sit 
down. 

Roberts. (Crosses and sits l. of table. Dan r.J 
Oh, ye-es ! 

Dan. Well, my gal's goin' here to college, and I 
want you to help her with her studies. I don't care 
what it costs. You do the business, and I'll pay your 
own price. 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es. 

Dan. Here's your deposit. (Gives him paper 
money.) Two hundred and twenty-five dollars. 

Roberts. Oh, no-o! 

Dan. Yes, sir, I insist. 

Roberts. I'll be awested, sure! 

Dan. And — confidential-like — can you tell me 
where I can get some tobacco — any kind ? 

Roberts. Oh, I don't know where. 

Dan. Thought so! That's what they all say. I 
never seen such a dog-goned town. 

Roberts. Do they all say that ? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 8i 

Dan. Leastwise, all but a couple. And they said 
"go to the widder." Now what did they mean? 

RoDERTS. Maybe they meant Mrs. Wiggins. You 
know Wiggins isn't alive. 

Dan. That's so. Wonder I didn't think of it. 
I'll ask her. Have ye seen her lately? 

Roberts. Oh, no-o ! 

Dan. I seen her at dinner. Quite a pert lookin' 
widder. Eh ? 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es. (^Dan exits R.3E.J I don't 
want this money. (He exchanges the money from 
one hand to another as if to rid himself of it. Puts 
it on table, then thinks better, and picks it up and 
puts it in his vest pocket.) I want to go home. And, 
if I have to leave all my things behind, I'll get out of 
this abominable house. 

(Enter Byron and Dulcie c. from r. Roberts 
runs up and they meet him just at the door. 
Byron brings him down, shaking hands.) 

Byron. (Very excited. Earnestly) Professor 
James, I'm glad to see you at such an important mo- 
ment. Dulcie must not be outside. There is work 
to be done there. Dulcie, stay here with Professor 
James. I shall expect you, sir, to give her some 
fatherly advice. 

Roberts. Oh, yes ! (^Byron exits c. to r., ges- 
ticiilating as excited.) 

Dulcie. I'll have a horrid time talking to this 
old Professor. (Edges away.) 

Roberts. (Warming up) Don't you know, I'm 
glad to be here with you, Miss Harrington. Why, 
vv^hen I met you this morning, I thought you were a 
— a beaut ! 

Dulcie. Professor James ! 

Roberts. I mean, I wanted to meet you again, 
don't you know. 



82 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

DuLCiE. (Amused) Did you? 

Roberts. Ye-es, of course! 

DuLciE. How different from that Freshman! 
(Sits on sofa.) 

Roberts. (Sits on sofa) Well, I guess. I — ah 
— like you very much. 

DuLciE. Do you? 

Roberts. Yes. You're the first one I've seen 
that I like real well. 

DuLCiE. And — and I like you. 

Roberts. (Coining closer to her) You do? You 
do? Oh, I say now, isn't this jolly! You're the 
nicest girl I ever met. I hope you'll stay here some 
time. We'll get to know each other real well. W^hat 
did you say your first name was? (Catches her 
hand.) 

DuLciE. Dulcie. 

Roberts. Say, that's a sweet name. (She 

laughs.) Almost sweet enough to make a fellow 

(Puts his ami around her waist and is about to kiss 
her.) 

Dulcie. (Solemnly, with wide eyes) Why, Pro- 
fessor, is this fatherly advice? 

Roberts. (Jumping back, clasping hands) Oh, 
ye-es! 

Dulcie. I thought we were going to talk about 
awfully — awfully dry subjects, and — and everything 
like that. 

Roberts. Why ? 

Dulcie. Aren't you a Professor? 

Roberts. Oh, no-o ! Oh. ye-es ! 

Dulcie. Professors always talk about those 
things. Don't they? 

Roberts. Oh, no-o. Not very often. I — ah — I 
would rather talk about things that you like. Con- 
found these whiskers ! 

Dulcie. Why, Professor, don't you like them? 

Roberts. Oh, no-o. Not always. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 83 

DuLCiE. Why not? 

Roberts. (Beginning to get nervous) Because 
they make me look too old, you know. 

DuLCiE. But you are old, aren't you? 

Roberts. Oh, no-o. Not much older than you 
are. 

DuLciE. (Very much surprised) Then what do 
you wear them for ? 

Roberts. Oh, ah — I — I have to look old to hold 
my job. 

DuLciE. Oh. 

Roberts. Besides, they keep my face warm. 

DuLCiE. You have got a warm face. 

Roberts. Oh — ah — say, now you're joking! 

DuLCiE. (With mock seriousness) Don't you 
like jokes. Professor James? 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es ! Sometimes — ^but in vaude- 
ville, you know. 

DuLCiE. (Springing up and doing cake walk to 
c.) What! Song-and-dance stuff? 

Roberts. (Jumping up) Well, I should say so ! 
Do you ever go ? 

DuLCiE. When Papa takes me. 

Roberts. (Excited) Then suppose I take 
you 

Dulcie. Out into the conservatory? (Catches 
up her hat.) Certainly. (Runs out c. to L.) 

Roberts. (Looking at audience, and making mo- 
tion as if hugging someone) Oh, ye-es ! (Exits, 
running after her c. to l.) 

(Enter Nugata c. from r. with book.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Calls off r.) Nugata ! Nugata ! 
Nugata. Yis. 

(Enter Mrs. Wiggins R.3E. hurriedly.) 



84 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Mrs. Wiggins. Nugata! You good-for-nothing 
creature, why are you not in the conservatory decor- 
ating for to-night's dance ? (Strikes book out of his 
hand.) Go in and attend to it. (Exit c. to l. Nu- 
gata recovers book and returns to meet Dan, who 
enters hurriedly R.3E. in pursuit of Mrs. Wiggins.) 

Dan. I seen her come this way. (To Nugata) 
Did she go out there? (Points c. to R. — the wrong 
way.) 

Nugata. Yis. ("Dan exits c. to r.J 

("Tom enters c. from l. Nugata goes to him and 
clutches him, indicating by motions that some- 
one outside wishes to see him.) 

Tom. What is it? Someone to see me? 

Nugata. Yis. 

Tom. Well, I won't see him! 

Nugata. Yis. (Exit c. to R.j 

Tom. Another hope gone. This telegram didn't 
work, and I can't turn poisoner. (Enter Dawley c. 

from R.j There's one chance (Sees Dav/- 

ley) But it isn't that. 

Dawley. I'm looking for you. 

Tom. Well, that's your business. But I'm busy. 
You'll have to call again. 

Dawley. I won't call no more. You tinks you 
can do me — well, you'se way off your bizeenis. 

Tom. Now look here! You'll have to go. You 
can't stay here. 

Dawley. Where does you tink I'll go? 

Tom. Anywhere. I don't care. That's none of 
my business. 

Dawley. Well, I tell you dis: I don't go out- 
side. I stays here till all these bills are paid. I have 
been round town collecting them together. And 
here they are — two hundred and twenty-five dollars ! 

Tom. Two hundred and twenty-five dollars ! 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 85 

Dawley. Yes. And I gets it, or I goes to your 
old man. 

Tom. The Governor! (Surprised.) 

Dawley. Ye-es. I heard he was here, and so I 
come. Widder Maguire, who keeps tobaccer on the 
side, is coming, too. 

Tom. Widow Maguire! Oh, I see. (Dropping 
boldness, and becoming suave) That's right. I 
don't blame you. It should have been paid long ago. 

You'll find my father in there (Points r.ie.J 

He has long hair and extensive (Makes mo- 
tions of a beard.) 

Dawley. (Going r.) Well, he comes across with 
de dough this time. See! (Exits r.ie. Tom calmly 
locks the door, and turns around just in time to see 
Widow Maguire, who enters c. front r. and comes 
dozvn c. Tom meets her suavely.) 

Tom. Why, how do you do, Mrs. Maguire? I'm 
very pleased to meet you. Won't you sit down? 

Widow Maguire. (Sitting r. of table l.) I 
called to see 

Tom. About the little bill for smokes? Oh, you 
needn't have called. 

Widow Maguire. Yis, but I was afther needin' 
a bit of money, and I 

Tom. Certainly, certainly! But there was no 
cause for haste. Perhaps you think you're the only 
one I owe. 

Widow Maguire. No, I didn't. 

Tom. Well, then, you're not in such bad company. 
Do you know Hogan, the tailor? 

Widow Maguire. Yis, and he's a 

Tom. Well, he's no better than you are. 

W^iDOW Maguire. (Angry) Well, I guess not! 

Tom. Of course not! You're as good as he is. 
You ought to be satisfied to he in such company. 
Just think, I owe you more than any of them ! 



86 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Widow Maguire. (Proudly, hut obdurate) Yis, 
sorr, I know ! I know ! But I need the money. 

Tom. (Smiling) Certainly. So do I. But, good- 
bye. I'll call over to-night, and settle. 

Widow Maguire. (Rising) Yis. But Mr. 
Dawley said your father was here. And I'm going 
to see him. 

Tom. The deuce! He's gone out. You'll have 
to come again. 

Widow Maguire. (Sitting again) Oh, no. I 
guess I'll wait here. 

Tom. That won't do. Let me see, yes — he's up- 
stairs. (She rises and he shows her across.) First 
door to the right. He has chin whiskers and high 
boots. 

Widow Maguire. Oh, I'll find him. (Goes up- 
stairs, R.3E.J 

Tom. (After her) Yes! Tell him it's a bill for 
tobacco, and it'll be all right. (Gaily to the audi- 
ence) Every little helps ! 

Byron. (Entering c. from R.J Thomas, my son ! 

Tom. What is it, father? 

Byron. The anarchist! 

Tom. The anarchist ! 

Byron. See there ! (Points through window, or 
out -R.) He's running, and all the others are after 
him. What's that ball he's carrying? 

Tom. Ball? Dad! It's a bomb! 

Byron. A bomb! Well, I'd like to see him try 
to bring it in here ! 

Tom. That's right, dad! Throw him out. 
("Byron starts out.) Hold on, father! I forgot. 
Here's a telegram for you. (Hands it.) 

Byron. Telegram ! At such a time as this ! Rot ! 
(He crushes it and throws it into the air. Exit c. 
to R.; 

Mrs. Wiggins. ("Tom exits c. to r. Enter Mrs. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 87 

Wiggins c. from l.) I wonder what that miner 
wanted of me. He can't wish to pay his daughter's 
board bill. He gave me that in advance this morn- 
ing. (Sits R. of table l.) Ah, what a blessing it 
would be to have a lot of money like that! Oh, if 
Wiggins was alive. (Looks up at picture.) 

Dan. (Outside) Dog-gone that son-of-a-gun of 
a Jap ! (Enter c. from r.) Ah, there she is — the 
widder ! Gosh ! How I hate to ask a woman where 
I can get a chaw of tobaccer. But here goes ! Ahem ! 
("Mrs. Wiggins turns. He stands scraping and bow- 
ing.) 'Cuse me, madam, I wanted to talk to you con- 
fidential-like. I — I 

Mrs. Wiggins. About the roomi' 

Dan. Oh, no. I — I — wal, it's personal what I'm 
goin' to say. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Sir? (Rising and crossing k. 
Aside) What can he mean? 

Dan. Now, I know I'm purty bold in askin' you 
what Fm goin' to, but I'm a blunt old widovx^er^ I 
am. I alius speaks right out. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Widower! (Melting. Coquet- 
tishly) Oh, sir ! 

Dan. That's what I said! Now, I wouldn't be 
so bold if I didn't feel that I knowed yer before I 
spoke. 

Mrs. Wiggins. fR.cJ Bold? You naughty, 
naughty man ! 

Dan. fL.c.J I've been noticin' you since I come, 
and wal — I like yer. And I know I can trust yer. 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Aside) Oh, how can he! When 
I've only known him since this morning. Sit still, 
my little heart ! 

Dan. So I come to you this afternoon to ask yer 
— to ask yer — well, — er will yer — will yer 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Throwing herself in his arms, 
L.c. j Oh, sir, if you really wish it, I am yours ! 



88 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Dan. Holy smoke! 

("Byron has entered hurriedly c. from l. in time to 
see last of above. Comedy hurry music in or- 
chestra pianissimo to curtain.) 

Byron. What is this, sir? 

Dan. Hold on ! Hold on ! It's all a mistake. 

(Enter Marian R.3E. with Widow Maguire.J 

Marian. Father! What are you doing? 
Byron. Hugging the widow! Disgraceful! (He 
storms up and down c.) 

(Enter Tom c. from r. zdio hears following from 
Widow Maguire.J 

Widow Maguire. (To DanJ Oi wants my 
money! ("Tom throws up arms and goes behind 
screen.) 

Byron. What money? 

Marian. (v..c.) She has a bill for tobacco. 

Byron. Tobacco ! Are you -joing to pay it ? 
fToM comes down c. back of Byron. j 

Dan. No, by gosh! I — I 

Byron. (Very angry) I thought you had money ! 

Dan. I have! (Produces roll of bills.) 

Byron. (Fiercely) Then pay it. (Takes roll 
and gives it to Mrs. Maguire.) 

Widow Maguire. Many thanks! (^Tom grabs 
her and rushes her out c. to R. after Roberts and 
Dulcie come c. from L., doing a cake walk. They 
do not see the others, and come down.) 

Byron. (Very angry, getting more and more so 
to climax) W^hv don't you pay your bills? Such 
conduct (Sees Roberts and Dulcie — he is i.. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 89 

of her, she next to ByronJ What! Professor 
James! What are you doing? Dulcie! (Swings 
her out of reach across him. She stands with 
Marian hack of sofa.) Disgraceful ! I never saw 
such conduct. 

(Door R.iE. opens and Dawley enters, breaking the 
lock.) * 

Dawley. I'm tired of dis ! 

All. What? 

Tom. There he is. (Points to Rgberts.J 

Dawley. (r.c. Going over and shaking fist at 
RobertsJ Are ye goin' to pay over that money? 

Roberts. ("l.cJ What money? 

Dawley. The two hundred and twenty-five. 

Roberts. I'm awested! 

Byron. Pay it, sir. 

Roberts. (Scared) Oh, ye-es! (Produces 
money that Dan gave him. Byron takes it and 
gives it to Dawley.j 

Tom. That's right, father! (Dawley goes r. 
and up and stands. Crash outside. Byron goes 

R.C.J 

(Enter James c. from r. with torn suit and black 
eye. He has a football under his artn. Reg- 
inald a7td two Freshmen in football suits ap- 
pear and come down. Freshmen standing up 
L. Reginald behind Marian and Dulcie. 
James runs down to l.c. beside Byron, who is 
now crazy with anger. James raises arm to 
which the football is tied.) 

James. (Wildly) This is too much ! 
Tom. (Punching Byron. Loudly) Look out for 
the bomb! 

Byron. (Loudly) Stop, sir! (All scream. 



90 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Byron grabs James and, rushing him donm c. and 
out L., throws him through the conservatory hack- 
ing. Crash of glass and wood. Music becomes 
forte.) 



qURTAIN 

(Byron comes down c, shaking his hand proudly 
and vigorously. Tom meets him and congratu- 
lates him, patting him on the hack. Mrs. Wig- 
gins falls in Dan's arms. Marian and Dul- 
ciE into Reginald's J 

SECOND CURTAIN 



ACT III 



Same setting, but the scene is night, zmth lights lit. 
Room decorated in college colors and flags. 
Curtains up. Music, ''Last Walts,'' the first i6 
bars. Tom is in evening dress, and is discov- 
ered sitting on sofa R. The music continues 
very softly. Nugata enters and hands Tom an 
envelope which Tom takes. Speaks to Nugata. 

Tom. Oh, my poor head ! It is almost overcome 
by the events of the last few hours. 

Nugata. Yis. 

Tom. a net is gradually vi^inding about me, and 
I cannot move. A weight is hanging over my head 
which — presto ! — (He pretends to cut the cord) — 
and I am crushed under my own — Mathematics 
medal. 

Nugata. (Solemnly) Yis. 

Tom. The worst of it all is that I can't think. 
Every time any one speaks to me, there is but one 
thought that "springs eternal in my human breast." 
Lie, for you know not whence you come, nor why. 
Lie, for you know not why you go, nor where. 

Nugata. Yis. 

Tom. I always wondered how a man felt while 
working in a nitro-glycerine factory. (Nugata goes 
to table L. Tom looks at him sadly) Nugata, you 
are a happy man. And to think that you know all 
about it and could set everybody right, if you could 

91 



92 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

say anything but, Yis. ("Nugata has gone over and 
is wiping the piano with a chamois. He turns 
around. Tom crosses and lays his hand on his head.) 
Blessed youth, happy in the possession of peace. 
(The music should stop about here.) 

NuGATA. (Frightened, and making his escape 
R.3E.J Yis. 

Tom. (Opens letter) I thought so! (Reads) 
"My Dear Sir : Unless you see me to-night and ex- 
plain your position in regard to your Gymnasium 
work, you must certainly leave college. Walter E. 
Magee." Poor Professor Magee! How I have 
treated him and his Gym work! Why, I haven't 
been near the place in weeks, and cut the work en- 
tirely. But I must see him at once. I can't risk it. 
(He exits L.3E.J 

(Enter Dan from upstairs, R.3E., shaking his head.) 

Dan. Wal, of all the blamedest things I ever 
seen, if that ain't the worst ! Ask for tobaccer, and 
git a widder! ("Tom has stepped into his room and 
procured his hat. Enters L.3E. Dan sees him.) 
Why, howdy, Leftenant ! Just the man I wanted to 
see. Now, I started to ask you this mornin' 
where 

Tom. Yes, I know. But I'm going out in an 
awful hurry. 

Dan. Now look-a-here, Leftenant! I've been 
lookin' all day, and I'm clean tuckered. You've got 
ter 

Tom. Yes, when I come back. I've got to square 
myself with Magee. See here, tell Black, if you see 
him, that I cut Gym and I'm going to see Magee and 
square it. That's all. (Exits c. to R.j 

Dan. I wonder what's the matter with that young 
feller? He didn't act that way last night. "Tell 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 93 

them I cut Jim and am going to square it with Mag- 
gie !" That's queer. 

Mrs. Wiggins. (Ojf L.j Nugata! Nugata! 
fDAN listens a second, then makes a wild dash up- 
stairs R.3E. Mrs. Wiggins calls, still off) Nugata! 
(She enters c. from l. and comes down. She is in 
an ancient hall dress of the time of 1880. J That 
good-for-nothing creature ! It's almost time for the 
dance. Nugata! (Enter Ruth R.3E., zvho comes 
down R. moodily.) Come, Ruth, you must go in 
with me and receive the guests. 

Ruth. I don't think I shall go in to-night, 
Auntie. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Why not? 

Ruth. Oh, because 

Mrs. Wiggins. What? Not on this happiest of 
all nights ! Why, I've hired an orchestra in honor 
of the day. I shall lead the march with Mr. Daven- 
ant. (This last archly.) 

Ruth. But, Aunty, wasn't that rather sudden? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Oh, dear me! I reaHzed that 
the poor man was madly in love with me this morn- 
ing. 

Ruth. This morning! 

Mrs. Wiggins. Yes. I realized this morning 
that his heart was yearning for something. And to 
think that it was my love ! 

Ruth. But are you sure? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Sure! Why, Ruth, if you had 
seen how he pleaded with me, and begged me to 
marry him ! 

Ruth. He did? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Yes. Oh, I haven't been so 
happy since Wig — since Wig — ah — for a very long 
time. 

Ruth. (Gloomily) Well, I'm sure I'm not. 

Mrs. Wiggins. Well, you must come in, Ruth. 
(Archly) If you see Mr. Davenant — (Going) — 



94 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

tell him that / am in there. (Points c. to L. and exits 
same.) 

Ruth. Everyone but me seems happy. Even 
— even Miss — Miss Davenant. Her Lieutenant, in- 
deed ! Well, I suppose I oughtn't to think of him at 
all now. I despise him! 

(Enter Dan R.3E., talking to himself. He goes to- 
ward Ruth. J 

Dan. Why, howdy. Miss. (Goes on.) 

Ruth. My Aunty — Mrs. Wiggins, told me to tell 
you, if I saw you 

Dan. (He has almost \reached the entrance c. to 
L. He stops) What? 

Ruth. That she is in there. (Points at door he 
is about to go through.) 

Dan. She is? Thank you, Miss. (He makes 
his escape hurriedly R.3E.J 

Ruth. Shall I go in or not? (She thinks.) Yes 
— I will go in. I'll show him that / don't care. (She 
starts to go out R.3E. Enter Reginald l.ie. He 
goes to her.) 

Reginald. Ruth ! 

Ruth. Sir? 

Reginald. W^here have you been all the time? 
I wanted to ask you something. 

Ruth. (Going) Thank you, sir, I am decidedly 
busy just at present. Lieutenant Thomas. (Exits 
R.3EJ 

Reginald. Er — a — a — what? I say, Ruth! 
(Calls after her) Well, that's strange! What do 
you mean ? Lieutenant Thomas ! You don't 

think (Bell rings outside. Reginald turns 

and looks c. and L.j By Jove! The guests are al- 
ready coming! (Enter Roberts r.ie. with zvhiskers 
straight out from forehead. This is possible if the 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 95 

rubber band is under the Svcngali wig.) Oh — Fresh- 
man ! So there you are, are you ? 

Roberts. Yes, here I am, am I. 

Reginald. (r.c.) Well, you came near fixing 
us with your specialty performance, didn't you ? 

Roberts. Well, it weally wasn't my fault. You 
can't expect a fellah to be a Professor all the time, 
can you ? (Crosses to l.c. j 

Reginald. We can't expect an3^thing from a 
Freshman any time. 

Roberts. Well, I did the best I could. And now 
I want to tell you fellahs that I'm done — (pushes up 
whiskers) — I'm not going to play Professor any 
longer. 

Reginald. What ! 

Roberts. Why didn't you tell me that I was go- 
ing to be a permanent one at first? I'm going to 
quit right now. 

Reginald. Now, see here! Someone's coming. 
Put them on again. (He pulls them dozvn, Roberts 
objecting.) Don't desert us in our trouble — I mean 
Tom's trouble. Think of his father. 

(Enter Dulcie c. from r. She wanders up stage. 
She has a dance program, with pencil attached.) 

Roberts. Hang his father! 

Reginald. (Seeing DulcieJ His sister! 

Roberts. His sister ! (Ceases his objections.) 

Reginald. Yes. (Pointing at Dulcie. J 

Roberts. Do you think — a — that she would a. — a 
— like to have me — a — a help her brother? 

Reginald. Why, certainly. 

Roberts. Why — if she — she ("Dulcie comes 

down R.j 

Reginald. (Approaching her) Miss Harring- 
ton! ■ 

Dulcie. Oh, Mr. Black — and — and Professor 
James ! Are you ready for the party ? 



96 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Reginald. Yes — that is, no. But I want to ask 
you — ^you a question. 

DuLCiE. Me ? 

Reginald. Yes. Now, suppose — a — suppose 
your brother, Tom, were in great danger. 

Roberts. (Warming up) Yes — in very great 
danger. ('Reginald punches him back.) 

Reginald. And someone who could save him, 
did so — would you be grateful to that one ? 

Roberts, (i^.c. Bubbling) Yes — would you — ah 
— could you — might I — ah — ^yes, would you? (Reg- 
inald same business.) 

Dulcie. ^r.c. Surprised) If Tom — very great 
danger? (Rather excitedly) Why, what do you 
mean? Save Tom? Why, of course I would. But 
is he 

Reginald. Never mind. I just said suppose. 
(Aside to Roberts) What did I tell you? 

Roberts. But if — if I remain a Professor, I can't 
dance with her. 

Reginald. Nonsense! (To Dulciej Professor 
James begs the honor of a dance. (Catches Rob- 
erts and throws him over c. next to her.) 

Roberts. (Confused and bowing) Yes, don't 
you know, I — that is — a — would you? 

Dulcie. I shall be delighted. You may have — 
hum — let me see — (Consulting her program) — the 
first fox-trot. 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es. 

Reginald. (To Roberts j Stop talking like a 
goat. 

Dulcie. And shall I save one for you, Mr. 
Black? 

Reginald. Why, certainly. (Throws Roberts 
back to L.c.j Put me down for two. 

Roberts. Ah — um — weally, if I — I — ah — could 
I? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 97 

Reginald. (Jostling him) What! A man of 
your age — two? 

Roberts. Oh, say now 

DuLciE. (Going between the^n c.) Now, I'll give 
you both only one, and — (Laughing as she goes to 
C.J— if either of you get another, it must be a 
grab. (Exits c. to l. Roberts runs down after 
her.) 

Roberts. I'll take my grab now. 
^ Reginald, (Catches Roberts at door and brings 
him back. Speaks quickly) Well, will you do it ? 

Roberts. Well, I'll do it until— well— for one 
hour, and then I'm over it. Remember — just one 
hour. Then I'll become James Wobberts again. 

Reginald. Well, mind your business, and don't 
be giving us any more of this song-and-dance stuff. 
I must tell Tom that he has one hour grace. 
^ Roberts. (Stopping at the door) Well, not un- 
til the first grab anyway. (Exits quickly r.ie. as 
Reginald dodges at him. Reginald then goes over 
and opens door R.3E.J 

Reginald. Tom! (Looks around) Tom! I 
wonder if he and his father are back yet. That was 
a great idea, having Papa notify the officers while I 
put James in his room. He must have returned to 
dinner ! (Exits c. to l.) 

Dan. (Enters cautiously R.3E.J Wal, I 'low I'm 
clean tuckered. What with trying to keep out of the 
widder's way — I'm clean tuckered out. I'll leave 
this infernal town to-night. And that Lef tenant— 
"Cut Jim and has to square it with Maggie." I 
wonder who Jim is. 

James. (Enters l.ie. zvith his head bandaged) 
Whiskey ! 

Dan. (Excited) Where? Where? 
James. Have you a stimulant? I'm faint. 
Dan. (Disgusted) So'm I. But I ain't got none. 
You'll just have to grin and bear it. 



98 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

James. Grin! Grin! Sir, do I look as though 
I were able to grin ? (Laughs spitefully) Ha ! Ha ! 

Dan. (Jumping back) Hold on I Gosh, he's 
gone loco again. That's all right, young feller ; that's 
all right. 

James. No, it isn't. And besides, I'm not a 
young fellow. Do you understand? 

Dan. Yes — yes — that's right — young, — er, what 
did you say your name was ? 

James. James, sir. James! 

Dan. James ? 

James. Yes. Have you seen the Lieutenant? 

Dan. Wal, I reckon. He's gone up to some gal 
or other. He cut a feller by the name o' — (Look- 
ing at the bandage) — Jim! James! Gosh, he's the 



man 



James. I want to see him. I can't stand this any 
longer. 

Dan. Oh, he's goin' to square it. Don't get ex- 
cited. 

James. Excited! (Clawing) I feel as though I 

could — I could fDAN backs and slides around 

and exits hurriedly R.3E. James rubs his head.) 
No one listens to me. No one will let me explain. 
And that old man actually threw me through the 
side of the house. Well, there's one thing, thank 
goodness : I can leave such a community. And I'll 
do it just as soon as I can. Yes ! I'll do it to-night, 
as soon as I send this resignation ! (Reads letter) 
"The President of the University of California : I 
hereby resign my position as Professor of Mathe- 
matics, unconditionally and irrevocably. Nothing 
can cause me to reconsider the resignation. Yours 
very truly, William Everett James." (Speaking) 
Now to send this, and leave this awful place. (En- 
ter NuGATA R.3E., and goes across slowly to piano.) 
Leave it! Yes! But not until I bring to justice 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 99 

some of these villains who have maltreated me. But 
how can I get this to the President? (Out of curi- 
osity NuGATA touches a note at the piano and jumps 
at the sound.) Ah! Just the man! (Addressing 
NugataJ Sir ! 

NuGATA. Yis. 

James. Do you know where the President lives? 

NuGATA. Yis. 

James. (Fumbling in his pockets) Take this let- 
ter to him immediately. ("Nugata protests in panto- 
mime, indicating that he must stay at the reception. 
James produces money.) There! I'll make it all 
right with the landlady. Now, give that to the Presi- 
dent, and as you come back, bring a cab to carry me 
to the station. (Sits on sofa R.J 

NuGATA. Yis. (Exits c. to r. Enter Dulcie c. 
from L.) 

Dulcie. (Seeing James seated on the sofa with 
raised head) That — person ! 

James. (Feeling of the bandage) Oh, my head ! 

Dulcie. (Unbending a little) Ah — ^a — why, I 
do believe he's hurt. 

James. Oh, my head! 

Dulcie. (Coming over) Excuse me, but are you 
suffering? Let me call — call — assistance; Tom or 
Mr. Black. 

James. (Jumping up) No, don't. Not them! 
They're the cause of it all. I'll be better. It's only 
a cut in the head. 

Dulcie. Oh, that's too bad! 

James. Oh, don't mind it. I'll have my revenge 
on the man that cut me. 

Dulcie. Poor fellow! And so you couldn't go 
to the dance, even if you wanted to? CJames shakes 
his head.) Oh, there are ever so many people here 
already. Professor Magee just came, and he's di- 
rector of the Gymnasium. 



100 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

James. (Rising and Crossing to u) He is? 
He isf Why didn't you tell me? I must see him. 
I must — I must. 

DuLCiE. Then you're going in? 

James. Yes, of course. That is — I will. 

DuLCiE. What? After you said you wouldn't? 

James. Yes, yes ! Now, you really are a nice lit- 
tle girl for telling me, but I must make myself more 
presentable. (Exits l.ie.) 

DuLciE. There he goes ! Nice little girl, indeed 1 
I wonder who it was, though, that hurt him that 
way? Where is Tom? The dance is almost ready 
to commence. (Enter Dan R.3E. Hesitatingly) 
Excuse me, sir, but have you seen — seen Thomas? 

Dan. What? The Leftenant? (Suspiciously) 
Say, yon ain't Maggie? 

DuLciE. No, no! But I want to see him. I'm 
his sister. 

Dan. Too bad — but he said to tell 'em — Ain't 
you heard? 

DuLciE. Heard? No. What? 

Dan. Wal, he got in a sort of mix-up with that 
feller over a gal. That is, he 

DuLCiE. (Horrified) What, a fight? 

Dan. Yes. He cut that feller Jim all to pieces 
over some gal named Maggie. And he's gone up to 
see her and square hisself. 

DuLCiE. (Crying and sitting r. of table) Oh, 
Tom — Tom ! But, sir — wasn't it self-defense ? 

Dan. Pore little critter! I'm afraid it was nary 
a self-defense — just a massacre. (Pronounced 
mass-a-cree.) Sorry, miss, but them as fights must 
pay the jailer. 

DuLCiE. Why — why, they wouldn't put him in 
jail ! O-o-oh ! 

Dan. Afraid they would. That feller, Jim, — 
(Points L.iE.j — swears vengeance. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE loi 

DuLCiE. (Weeping) That's so. He just told 
me. 

Dan. Pore little critter! (Exits c. to h.) 

DuLCiE. Oh, Tom — Tom! (Crying) How 
could you — oh, now I see what Mr. Black meant by 
"great trouble." (Enter Byron R.3E.J 

Byron. Now, for a night of enjoyment such as 
I had when I was a boy. (Sees Dulciej Why — 
bless me — What, why, it's Dulcie ! Come, come, my 
child. What's the matter? You're crying! 

Dulcie. Oh, father — ^Tom 

Byron. (Proudly) Ah, yes ! My noble boy ! 

Dulcie. He's going to be arrested! 

Byron. Arrested ? 

Dulcie. Yes. He fought a duel with a Fresh- 
man over a girl, and cut him all up, and they're go- 
ing to arrest him for murder. 

Byron. What ! My son, in a common brawl ! 

Dulcie. He said so himself ! 

Byron. What! Over a woman, too! Where is 
he? 

Dulcie. (Wailing) Gone to — to — Magg-i-e-s! 

Byron. (Angry) By thunder ! I'll find him and 
ask him if he has disgraced the name of Harrington 
— if I have to hunt every Maggie in Berkeley. Brrh ! 
(Exits c. to R.) 

Dulcie. Poor Tom, what shall I do ! (Sits down 
again. Enter Marian R.3E. from upstairs.) 

Marian. Well, I guess I'm ready for the dance, 
and — and — Lieutenant Thomas. (Sees Dulciej 
Why, my dear Miss Harrington, what is the matter ? 

Dulcie. Oh, I'm wretched — miserable! 

Marian. (Suddenly starting back with cry) Oh, 
I see ! You've got it. 

Dulcie. (Amazed) I've got what? 

Marian. The Balangalang fever. 

Dulcie. (Approaching her) I? Why, no. 

Marian. Stop! Don't come near me! 



102 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

DuLCiE. What ? Oh, you've heard ! 

Marian. Yes. 

DuLCiE. Oh, I knew it'd disgrace us! My poor 
brother ! 

Marian. Your brother ? 

DuLCiE. Yes, — Tom. 

Marian. Oh, I'm so sorry. Is he dead? 

DuLciE. No. But he's in awful trouble. But he 
really didn't mean to cut the Freshman. And it 
couldn't be about a girl. 

Marian. (Still more surprised) A girl? Cut 
a Freshman? 

DuLCiE. Yes, with a sword, or something. Oh, 
and to do such a thing over a girl ! 

Marian. Your brother? 

DuLCiE. Yes. You know him. 

Marian. No. (Shakes her head.) Where is he? 

DuLCiE. Why, here in this house. 

Marian. Strange. I've never seen him. (Music 
commences off l. Any waltz.) 

DuLCiE. Oh, I'm so miserable ! (Enter Roberts 
R.iE., in evening dress.) 

Marian. The dance is commencing. 

Roberts. There she is! Ah, Miss Harrington! 

DuLCiE. (Drying her eyes) Why, Professor 
James, it's our dance, isn't it? But — ^but 

Roberts. Why, you're crying. Ah — ah — now 
weally, I — I 

DuLCiE. I've had a great blow. My eyes and 
nose are so red that I just can't go in to the dance. 

Marian. Your eyes are rather red, dear. 

DuLCiE. Then I can't go. 

Roberts. Good gwacious ! But, ah — I say, can't 
we go out into the garden, and — (Reaches out arms 
as if to embrace her; theit draws back) — and listen 
to the music — don't you know ? 

DuLCiE. Yes. I suppose so. But you'll find me 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 103 

rather dull. (Sighs. Going with Roberts^ IVe 
had a great blow. 

Roberts. Oh, ye-es ! (Exit c. to r. with Dul- 
cieJ 

Marian. Poor little soul ! What an awful thing 
to have a brother who is such a ruffian! Fighting 
over a woman, too. Ah, in my great happiness, I 
can truly pity her. What was her brother's name? 
Oh, yes, Tom Harrington. (Enter Ruth R.3E., and 
comes down R.J Ruth! 

Ruth. (Starts) Oh, is it you? 

Marian. Yes, come, let's go in and enjoy our- 
selves. 

Ruth. That is impossible. 

Marian. Impossible? 

Ruth. I mean, for me. 

Marian. What, more trouble ? Tell me, what is 
it? 

Ruth. Oh, there is no reason for my afflicting 
you with my troubles. 

Marian. But, tell me. I insist. 

Ruth. You would probably not believe me. (Sits 
sofa R.j 

Marian. What, I? 

Ruth. You. 

Marian. Why, beHeve you? Of course I will. 
(Sits also.) Tell me, I insist. 

Ruth. (Bitterly) Oh, it isn't much. Only a 
tale of misplaced confidence. 

Marian. Do you mean ? 

Ruth. Last year I met a student here at college 
whom I liked very much 

Marian. Yes. 

Ruth. He was a manly fellow, and we soon grew 
to be good friends — just good friends, you know. 

Marian. Yes. 

Ruth. I — I — suppose I shouldn't care about it, 



104 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

but — when I found out to-day that he — that I could 
no longer trust him — it hurt me. 

Marian. What has he done? 

Ruth. (Sharply) What has he done! He has 
gone to San Francisco, and in one night has fallen in 
love with another, and made love to her. 

Marian. Poor dear ! But maybe he 

Ruth, Oh, that might be allowed if he had not 
this very morning tried to make me believe that he 
cared for me. 

Marian. But are you sure that he cares for this 
other girl? 

Ruth. (Looking straight at her) I have her 
word for it, and — a gold saber as evidence. 

Marian. (Sprijiging up) What — why — ^}'ou 
don't mean to — insinuate? 

Ruth. I insinuate nothing. It is the truth. 

Marian. He — he — is Lieutenant Thomas ! 

Ruth. (Laughing bitterly, with irony) Yes, 
Lieutenant Thomas. 

Marian. (Angrily. Melodramatically) I'll not 
believe it ! (Exits R.3E. and upstairs.) 

Ruth. (After her) I knew you wouldn't. Well, 
I'm glad he's found out. You insisted on my telling" 
you. (Enter Reginald L.3E.J 

Reginald. (Hurrying tozvard her) Why, Ruth, 
I've been looking everywhere for you. This is our 
dance. (She turns azvay.) Why, what's the matter ? 

Ruth. This is not our dance. We shall have no 
dance. 

Reginald. Why, Ruth, what does this mean? 

Ruth. (Angrily. Following him up as he backs 
away) It means that I shall not dance with anyone 
who goes to San Francisco — palms himself off un- 
der an assumed name, and makes love to — to people. 

Reginald. Why — why — do you mean me? 

Ruth. I certainly do. 

Reginald. Why, nonsense! That was Tom. 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 105 

Ruth. (Sarcastically) Oh, you seek to throw 
the blame on your friend? 

Reginald. Nothing of the kind! 

Ruth. He said you did it — and the gold saber! 

Reginald. He did! The wretch! Ruth, it is 
not so ! 

Ruth. Prove it ! (Going c.) Meanwhile — there 
are others — to dance with. (Exits c. to l.) 

Reginald. The deuce! Why, I'll find Harring- 
ton and make him swallow those words, or choke 
him in the attempt. (Music stops.) 

(Enter Mrs. Wiggins and Dan c. from l. She 
has his arm.) 

Mrs. Wiggins. Yes, and I never dance, either. 
I haven't danced in years, since Wiggins was alive. 

Dan. Wal, ye see, I look at 'em when they're 
spry-like, and young, like — like 

Mrs. Wiggins. Me? Oh, Mr. Davenant! 

Dan. No, my darter, Mary Ann. But where is 
she? (Attempting to go) I — I think I'll find her. 

Mrs. Wiggins. And leave me? Why, she is no 
doubt safe. Let us stroll in the garden. Now, when 
Wiggins was alive (She looks at picture R.) 

Dan. (Also looking at picture) Is that Wiggins ? 

Mrs. Wiggins. Yes. 

Dan. Pore man! If he looked like that, he 
oughta died. All right, I'll go. I want to explain 
something to you, anyhow. (They exit r,3e. Music 
off L. Any fox-trot. Enter Tom c. from R.J 

Tom. Thank goodness, I fixed that ! I told him 
the truth. I don't know hov/ I did it — but I did. 
And the beauty of it was — it zvorked. I can now 
play football, if — yes, that's the questioin, if. I tell 
you, I felt better after telling the truth to Magee — it 
was just like a rub-down, after a hard game. By 



io6 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

George, I'll do it ! I'll start in to tell the truth, come 
what may — the truth ! 

Reginald. (Entering L.3E. "uery hurriedly, l.c.) 
So there you are ! 

Tom. (r c.) Yes, Regie. I'm a new man. 

Reginald. In my present state of mind, I feel as 
if I could lick a new man, or any old man, you in- 
cluded, Tom Harrington ! 

Tom. (Astonished) What? What — Reggie! 

Reginald. Don't call me Reggie ! From this mo- 
ment, we're no longer friends ! 

Tom. (Looking at him) Say, you haven't been 
drinking ? 

Reginald. Look here ! I've always done the 
white thing ! I've tried every way in my power to 
help you out, and how do you repay me — how do 
you repay me? 

Tom. (Feels in his pockets) Why, I'm broke, 
Reggie. You know I am 

Reginald. See here, don't make sport of me. I 
can stand your infernal lies about other people, but 
when you come between Ruth and me, I'll not stand 
for it. You've got to tell her that I'm not Lieutenant 
Thomas. 

Tom. (Seeing zvhy Reginald is angry) Oh — 
that ! (Laughs.) 

Reginald. Do you understand? Now. you can 
either remove your things from our room, or I'll 
take out mine. (He exits c. to h.) 

Tom. Reggie — say — Reggie! Hold on! Great 
Scott, what have I done ? Lost my best friend. Say, 
old fellow — what — remove my things — when we've 
gone all the way through to Seniors together ! Oh, 

say — that's too hard. I didn't (Enter Marian 

R.3E.; 

Marian. ^r.c.J What, you here! 

Tom. ("l.c.J Ah, Marian, I had almost forgotten 
the dance. (Approaching her) Marian! 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 107 

Marian. Sir, don't you dare speak to me ! 

Tom. (Astonished) What — why — er — you 

Marian. Don't you dare speak to me! 

Tom. What — what is the matter? 

Marian. And you ask me that? You, sir? I 
know all. ("Tom starts.) I know your deceit. 
Wasn't it admirable ! Wasn't it noble ! (He hesi- 
tates,) Please let me pass. 

Tom. By Jove! Marian — honestly, I was about 
to tell you the truth, — I had made up my mind to tell 
you a little while ago all about myself. 

Marian. Indeed ? 

Tom. Yes. Tell me, what have I done? 

Marian. Do you suppose I shall accuse you ? / 
don't care ! (Laughs and shrugs her shoulders.) 

Tom. You have found out 

Marian. That you have been deceiving- me. 

Tom. Why, I 

Marian. If you loved another girl, why weren't 
you manly enough to say so? 

Tom. Another girl! What do 3^ou mean? 

Marian. I mean what I said — another girl. 

Tom. But I love no other girl. I care only for — 
for you. 

Marian. You — you say that? 

Tom. Yes, Marian; and I mean it. 

Marian. Oh, if it were only true ! 

Tom. It is ; I swear it ! (Music stops.) 

Marian. But Ruth said you cared for her. 

Tom. Ruth — nonsense ! Why, she's my chum's 
girl. 

Marian. Then it is a mistake ! Oh, how glad I 
am ! 

Tom. Then you do not doubt me? 

Marian. No. I — I believe you. 

Tom. Marian! (Kisses her, and zvinks over her 
hack at audience.) 



io8 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

Marian. (Holding him off doubtfully) But yet, 
she said Lieutenant Thomas. 

Tom. (Recklessly) Yes. But I'm not Lieutenant 
Thomas. (Music, ''The Last Walts/') 

Marian. What? 

Tom. I did misrepresent my name — I acknowl- 
edge that. 

Marian. You're not Lieutenant Thomas? 

Tom. Yes, I am Lieutenant Thomas, but that's 
not all — my last name is Harrington. I am Tom 
Harrington. (Very pleased with himself.) 

Marian. What? Tom — Tom Harrington! That 
awful brother ! 

Tom. Yes. Don't you believe me? (Injured 
tone.) 

Marian. (Very sarcastic) Believe you? Of 
course. Do you suppose I am a perfect dupe? 
(Angry) I believe nothing, Tom Harrington! 

Tom. Marian, I do care for you. (Catches her.) 

Marian. Oh. Don't touch me! A common 
street fighter, and over a woman ! 

Tom. (Amazed) What? 

Marian. I might have forgiven last night, but to- 
day — never! Let me pass. 

Tom. But this is our dance! 

Marian. (Crossing L.J Sir, we shall have no 
dance! (Exits c. to L.J 

Tom. (Tottering and bewildered) What — she — 
she. too ! Gone — never speak again — and Reggie ! 
Why, I — I didn't deserve this. I was going to tell 
the truth! (Enter Byron c. from r. Dozvn r.) 

Byron. So there you are ! I've been looking all 
over town for you. 

Tom. Ah, father 

Byron, (-r.c.) Don't talk that way to me, sir. 
I know all. 

Tom. ("l.c.J He knows all! 

Byron. I know, sir, that you are a disgrace to 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 109 

my name. I know that you are a profligate. Every 
man I met in town told me that they hadn't seen you, 
but added the pleasant information that they were 
looking for you — to come and pay your debts. You 
spendthrift ! (Crosses L.J 

Tom. Father! 

Byron. Don't call me father ! A common brawler 
and ruffian ! I disown you. I paid your debts, and 
not another cent do you get from me. Do you un- 
derstand ? I cast you off without a penny. You can 
make your own way in the world as your father did. 
(Crosses R.J 

Tom. Why, father (Enter Dulcie c. from 

Dulcie. Oh, Tom! (Joyously) They're play- 
ing "The Last Waltz," your old favorite. Let's 

dance (Sees her father, who motions her hack) 

Oh, I forgot. 

Byron. (Solemnly taking her and going) Yes, 
Dulcie, you must forget him — forever. (At door, 
turning) Do you understand, sir? Forever! 
(Exits c. to L.j 

Tom. (Standing, overcome and groping, brushes 
his hand before his eyes. He is da^cd) What — why 
— am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare? All over 
— all against me — cast out — and forever! Well, it 
came at last! I — I — wonder who told. Well, well, 
I guess it serves me right. I — I have been a spend- 
thrift, and a — a — yes, a disgrace to — my — father's 
name — all the way through. I knew it was a battle 
against fate. (Looking l. Music stops.) Yes, 
there they go. Happy and gay. (Applause.) And 
to think that I might have been there if I'd done 
v/hat was right. Well, I haven't, and father — Dul- 
cie — Reginald, and — and (Encore music, ''Last 

Waltz.") Marian — Marian, that music! (Speaks 
naturally while the music plays, making no attempt 
to follow the phrases as in the case of singing) 



no A STRENUOUS LIFE 

"After to-night — after to-night; what will to-mor- 
row be ? You in the light, I in the night — out on the 
rolling sea." I had started to tell the truth — why 
couldn't they let me do it? Ah, but it is all gone. 
I must shift for myself. But I'll not give up the 
old college if I have to — to — starve myself through. 
(Music stops.) Well, it's ended. (Melodramatic- 
ally) Can there be — is there, any place, a more mis- 
erable man than I am? (Door l.ie. slowly opens 
and James enters with satchel and overcoat. They 
hold the picture.) Great Scott ! My poor victim ! 
He mustn't see me now. (Exits L.3E.J 

James. Now, to find Professor Magee, and then 
go. I wonder if that Japanese has got my cab? 
(Goes to door c. and looks r. Enter Ruth and 
JProfessor Magee c. from l.) 

Ruth. Ah, yes, Professor James is here. I will 
find him and send him to you. Will you please wait 
here, Professor Magee? (Exits c. to l.) 

James. So that is my man. (As Magee sits r. 
of table L., James approaches him.) Ah, this is Pro- 
fessor Magee, I believe? 

Magee. Yes, sir. 

James. My name is James. William Everett 
James. (Music starts, any twostep. James puts 
thmnb in car.) 

Magee. Our new Professor! Pleased to meet 
you, Professor James. 

James. (Tearing off the bandage) He actually 
calls me by my right name! Sir, I am Professor 
James. Yes, I am sure. I wish to tell you how un- 
justly I have been treated here. Will you listen? 

Magee. Unjustly treated? Why — what — cer- 
tainly ! 

James. (Looking around) I'll — I'll not tell you 
here. Come with me into the garden. I can explain 
it fully there. (Exeunt R.3E. Enter Reginald and 
Ruth c. from l.) 



A STRENUOUS LIFE in 

Reginald. Tom has promised to exonerate me. 
Tom! 

Tom. (From inside) Yes. 

Reginald. Here! ("Tom appears L.3E.J Tell 
her the truth ! 

Tom. Me — ^ne — not him. There, — that's one 
load off my conscience. (He goes in again L.3E. 
They stand, Ruth demurely. Reginald turns to 
her. She looks azvoy.) 

Reginald. Well, Ruth? Ruth! 

Ruth. Oh, Reginald! I— I really didn't doubt 
you! 

Reginald. Doubt me? Then that must mean 
that you know that I 

Ruth. Are the dearest fellow in the world. 

Reginald. (Catching her) Do you mean it? 

Ruth. Yes. 

Reginald. And you'll never doubt me again? 

Ruth. Never! 

Reginald. (Embracing her) Then I guess we 
can forgive Tom, (Enter Byron c. frojn l. He 
coughs. Hurriedly loosen their embrace.) Oh! 
Mr. Harrington — congratulate me! (Music outside 
stops.) 

Byron. What, is it — ah — congratulations. 
(Weakly) I feel in no mood for giving them. My 
only son! I could have forgiven him his debts. 

(Enter Dan and Mrs. Wiggins r. 3e.^ 

Mrs. Wiggins. Well, we've set the date — the 
tenth of next month. 

Byron. What! (To DanJ I thought you 
said 

Dan. Wal, I might not a meant what I said this 
morning, but durn my old pelt, if I didn't mean 
every word that I said just now out there in the 
moonlight. 



112 A STRENUOUS LIFE 
Byron. And it's 



Dan. Wal, I guess it's the tenth, all right enough. 
(He goes over to the picture of Wiggins and turns 
its face to the wall. Enter Marian c. from l.J 

Marian. What is this? 

Dan. (Presenting Mrs. Wiggins^ Your future 
step-mother. 

Reginald. My future wife (Presents 

RUTH.J 

Marian. (Astonished) What! Your — your — 
why, you — Ruth, — he's not Lieutenant Thomas! 

Ruth. I thought he was. It was all a mistake. 
It was Tom Harrington. 

Marian. Tom — Mr. Harrington — You didn't — 

Ruth. Of course not. 

Marian. Then, I've wronged him. O-o-oh no. 
I forgot his escapade with Maggie. 

Byron. (Sadly) Yes, and his cutting Jim, the 
Freshman. 

Reginald. Oh, that's all right. That only meant 
that he stayed away from the Gymnasium. You cut 
the Freshman yourself when you threw him out of 
the window. 

Byron. (Blankly) That's so. 

Marian. (Astonished and overjoyed) Then he's 
entirely innocent? 

Byron. He's innocent! My poor boy! Where 
is he? (Enter Tom L.3E. He has suit-case, overcoat 
and hat, and is very dejected. Tries to sneak out 
unnoticed.) Tom! Tom, my son! 

Tom. (Stopping and dropping his case, overcoat 
and hat) What? 

Byron. Come to my arms. I have wronged you. 

Tom. (Incredulous) What ! 

Marian. We have found out your innocence 
through Mr. Black. (^Tom comes dozvn and gives 
Reginald a heartful look and a clasp of the hand.) 

Tom. a miracle — ^that's all. A miracle! 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 113 

Byron, (l.) Tom, I wronged you. But I paid 
all your debts — can you forgive me ? 

Tom. (Assuming his old-time equilibrium and 
assurance, c.) Certainly, father. (They embrace.) 

Marian. fR.cJ And — and — can you forgive 



mer 



Tom. With all my heart. (Embraces her, (En- 
ter James and Magee r.3eJ 

James. That's the rascal! 

Tom. (Collapsing) Great Scott! I'd forgotten 
him! 

Magee. Harrington, a word with you. 

Tom. (Aside to Reginald^ By Jove! A fum- 
ble right under the goal post. 

(Enter Roberts and Dulcie from R. // Roberts 
is wearing two wigs, be careful to loosen the 
top one before entering so that they will not 
both be pulled off together.) 

Roberts. fL.c.j Hour's up! Off go the whis- 
kers. (Throzi's off iMskers and wigs. Dulcie r. 
hack of sofa.) 

Byron. (Extremely l.) Why, Professor James ! 

Roberts. I'm not Professor James. I'm James 
Wobberts, Freshman. 

James, ("r.c. to Mageej You see! (Aloud) I 
am Professor James. 

All. What? W^ell? Oh, ye-es! Bless me! 
Gosh ! Dear me ! (Etc. They all speak at the same 
time.) 

Magee. (To Robertsj Why, sir, did you im- 
personate Professor James? 

Roberts. (Pointing to Tou) Because he made 
me do it. Weally ! 

Magee. (To JamesJ Ah, corroboration of your 
evidence. (To Tomj Sir, a very serious charge has 
been made against you. Professor James states that 



114 A STRENUOUS LIFE 

you have compelled him to be Insulted as a Fresh- 
man, while you had that — that jacaknapes there — 
(^Roberts is offended and goes to Dulciej — imper- 
sonate him. What have you to say? Can you clear 
yourself ? 

Byron. Thomas, my son, speak! Clear yourself, 
for my sake. 

Tom. (To Reginald^ Reggie, the last lie I'll 
ever tell. (To all) I can. 

Magee. Well? 

Tom. You all know I'm Captain of the football 
team. 

All. Yes. True ! That's so ! 

Tom. My actions resulted only from a patriotic 
desire to do my duty and protect our football sig- 
nals from the enemy. ' 

All. What? 

Magee. But how? 

Tom. (Bravely) I had evidence that this man 
was not Professor James, but a Stanford spy, who 
came here simply to steal our football plans and sig- 
nals. 

James. Nonsense ! 

Tom. Remember, Professor James was not ex- 
pected to arrive for a week. An unknown appears 
and claims to be he. He chooses my boarding-house. 
What is more, he goes into my room, looking for 
signals. 

James. It's not so! 

Magee. Extraordinary! Most extraordinary! 
What have you to say. Professor James? 

James. I was never in his room. 

Magee. Harrington, you must furnish evidence. 
Your words are contradictory. I shall accept Pro- 
fessor James' statement unless you can produce fur- 
ther evidence. 

Tom. But hadn't I justification for punishing 
him? 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 115 

Byron. Yes, my boy. I'll stand by you there. 

Magee. But you must have testimony to back 
your assertion. 

Tom. (Aside to Reginald j Well, that settles it. 

Magee. Well? 

Tom. (Thinking) You want — a witness. (Struck 
by an idea. Melodramatically) I have a witness. 
(Everyone turns expectantly to the door. Nugata 
comes in c. from r., walking slowly, but stops, 
abashed and frightened.) 

All. Who? Don't say so! Yes? 

Tom. Nugata — the servant. (Points to Nugata. j 

All. (Talking at once) Clear Tom! Did you 
see him? See here, you Jap! (Etc. Note; Each 
player must take a different phrase.) 

Magee. (Stepping commandingly to c, close to 
Nugata, and raising his hand) Silence ! This must 
be settled. (All watch intensely. To Nugata J 
Tell me, sir, did you see that man — (Points to 
JamesJ — go into that man's room? (Points to 
Tom.) 

Nugata. (Fidgeting^ and very rattled. Loudly) 
Yis! 

(Orchestra plays any light music. James grabs up 
his grip and overcoat, and starts for the door, 
stopping to turn at c. Magee nods his head to 
show that he is convinced, and bows him out. 
Byron shakes Tom's hand c, and pats his back. 
Marian falls on his shoulder. Dan is with 
Mrs. Wiggins r. of table l. Black and Ruth 
R. Roberts and Dulcie, up r., do a cake-walk. 
Tableau.) 

CURTAIN 



PROPERTIES 

For the Scene Setting 

Carpet or large rug for the floor. 

Sofa. 

Table. 

Two chairs. 

Piano. 

Screen. 

Small stand. 

Fancy cloth for table. 

Decorations for top of piano and walls of the room. 

Large picture of Wiggins for wall. 

Additional bunting, flags, etc., for Act III. 

Piano Lamp if desired. 

ACT I 

Feather duster for Nugata. 
Book for Nugata. 
Handkerchief for Mrs. Wiggins. 
Two monograms, hanging on ribbons. 
Tray, for Nugata. 
Eight letters for Nugata. 
Several towels for Nugata. 
China wash-bowl and pitcher for Nugata. 
Broken crockery in a box for l.i.e. 
Suitcases (two), one for Reg and one for Tom. 
Pitcher of water and glass on table. 
Calling cards for Nugata. 
Grips and various bundles for Roberts. 
ii6 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 117 

Silk hat and frock coat in L.3E. to put on Roberts. 

Cigar for Byron. 

Roll of paper money for Dan. 

Lighted punk sticks for Nugata. 

Grip for Prof. James. 

Horn and flag on piano ; horn tied with blue and gold 
ribbon. 

Box containing Rob's Svengali wig and whiskers, 
and two towels that are soiled as if they had 
been used for taking off grease paint. 

ACT II 

Diamond saber for Marian. 
Watch for Reg. 
Telegram for Tom. 
Football for James. 

ACT III 

Chamois for Nugata. 

Letter for Nugata. 

Money for James. 

Dance program, with pencil attached, for Dulcie. 

Bandages for James' head. 

Letter for James. 

SCENE PLOT 

One important feature of "A Strenuous Life" is 
that it can be played on any kind of a stage or plat- 
form. 

A piano is shown in all of the scene settings, but 
it is not absolutely necessary, for Marian may recite 
at the opening of the second act as she sits on a 
chair at the table l. 

In a large, well-equipped theater, the following 
scene plot will be found very effective. The stage 



ii8 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 



hands will be able to set this scene. When the actors 
should go up the stairs in R.3E. it is mentioned in the 
manuscript. 



INTERIOR 



CONSERVATORY 




jrvJO EXITS 

ONE UPSTAIRS 

ONE AT SIDE 



SCENE DESIG-N- ' 

"A STRENUOUS LIFE' 



In other theaters or halls, the plan given below 
may be more useful, as it is less elaborate. In case 
of shortage of scenery, the two entrances nearest the 
footlights may merely be an entrance behind the tor- 
mentors or procenium, without showing the door. In 
R.3E. pay no attention to the direction about stairs. 





HALL 


BACKING- 








^ARCH SCREEN 


ARCH 




■~\ INTERIOR 




^=rX 




—1 ^ 




s 

D 

CHAIR 


TOOL 

TABLE 


a \ 




SCENE DESI&N 

•a strenuous UFl 


:« 





A STRENUOUS LIFE 



119 



In cases where the hall does not admit of a rear 
door, but will allow two openings on each side, the 
following is the arrangement. Make all exits marked 
on the script c. to l. into the L.3E. ; those marked 
c. to R., into R.3E. 

R.EAR. WALL 



DOOR, 



PIANO I ^" ~Z 



a 

STOOL 





SCENE DESIGN- , . '. 

'A STRENUOUS Lift* 



For an ordinary school platform, where no stage 
facilities are possible, the stage is set as given below. 

First drape a curtain on either side, as shown be- 
low, from the ceiUng to the floor, or high enough so 
that the audience can not look over. Between these, 
ordinary draw curtains on the same wire may be 
used for revealing and shutting off the stage. The 
rear wall of the building may be used as it is. How- 
ever, it should be decorated to look as nearly like the 
wall of a dwelling-house as possible. The only other 
requisite will be to make for the walls on each side 
of the stage a frame, as shown in the scene plot. 
Both should be covered with cloth, and ordinary 
wall-paper pasted upon them. The nearer this wall- 
paper is to the natural appearance of the rear wall, 
the better. These two frames, placed in the position 



120 



A STRENUOUS LIFE 



shown, will allow the four exits necessary. Follow 
the same rule as given above in changing c. to r. and 
L. to the R. and l. third entrances. 



WALL OF BUILDINO 




LINE OF PLATFORM 



SCENE DESIGN-' 

"A STRENUOUS LIFE* 



JUST PUBLISHED 

Nothing But the Truth 

A Farcical Comedy in Three Acts 
By 
James Montgomery ^ ^ 

Cast of Character^ 

Bob Bennett 

B. M. Ralston 

Clarence Van Dusen 

Bishop Doran 

Dick Donnelly 

Gwen 

Mrs. Ralston 

Ethel 

Mablo 

Sable 

Martha 

SCENES 

ACT 1. A Broker's Office 

ACT 2. Parlor of a Country Home 

ACT 3. " ** " " 

TIME: The Present 

"Nothing But the Truth" is built upon the simple ld«A 
of its hero speaking nothing but the absolute truth for a 
stated period. He bets a friend ten thousand dollars 
that he can do it, and boldly tackles truth to win the 
money. For a very short time the task is placidly easy, 
but Truth routs out old man Trouble and then things be- 
gin to happen. Trouble doesn't seem very large and 
aggressive when he first pokes his nose into the noble 
i'esolve of our hero, but he grows rapidly and soon we 
isee our dealer in truth disrupting the domestic relations 
of his partner. In fact, Trouble works overtime, and 
reputations that have been unblemished are smirched. 
Situations that are absurd and complications almost 
knotted, pile up, all credited to Truth, and the result of 
the wager to foster and cherish that great virtue from 
ihe lips of the man who has espoused the cause of truth 
to win a wager. 

It is a novel idea and so well has it been worked out 
that an audience is kept in throes of laughter at the 
seemingly impossible task to untangle snarls into which 
our hero has involved all those he comes into contact 
With. It is a clean bright farce of well drawn character^ 
and was built for laughing purposes only. 

William Collier played "Nothing But the Truth" for a 
year at the Longacre Theatre, New Tork. and it has been 
on tour for over two seasons. 

After three years continuous success on the profess- 
ional stage we are now offering "Nothing But the Truth" 
for amateur production. It is one of the funniest and 
brightest farces ever written, and it is admirably suitett 
to amateur production. 

Peice 6o Centj» 



The Return ot Hi Jinks 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short, author of **The V*Ttky 
Coach," '"The Touch-Down," etc 6 males, b females. Costumes 
modern. One interior scene. 

This comedy is founded upon and elaborated from a fafce comedy 
in two acts written by J. H. Horta, and originally produced at Tuft'a 
College. 

Hiram Poynter Jinks, a Junior in Hoosic College (Willie Collier 
type), and a young moving picture actress (Mary Pickford type), are 
the leading characters in this lively, modern farce. 

Thomas Hodge, a Senior, envious of the popularity of Jinks, triBhef 
to think up a scheme to throw ridicule upon him during a visit of 
the Hoosic Glee Club to Jinks's home town. Jinks has obligingly acted 
as a one-day substitute in a moving picture play, in which there is A 
fire scene, and this gives Hodge his cue. He sends what seems to 
be a bona fide account of Jink's heroism at a Hoosic fire to Jink's 
home paper. Instead of repudiating his laurels as expected. Jinks 
decides to take a flyer in fame, confirms the fake story, confesses to 
being a hero and is adored) by all the girls, to the chagrin and dis- 
comfiture of Hodge. Of course, the truth comes out at last, but 
Jinks is not hurt thereby, and his romance with Mimi Mayflower 
comes to a successful termination. 

This is a great comedy for amateurs. It £> full of funny situations 
tad is suxe to please. Fhoet 30 Ceata. 



J 



une 

A most successful comedy-drama in four acts, by Marie Doraa, 
author of "The New Co-Ed," "Tempest and Sunshine," "Dorothy's 
iVeighbors," etc. 4 males, 8 females. One interior scene. Costumes 
modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

This play has a very interesting group of young people, June is 
an appealing little figure, an orphan living with her aunt. There are 
A number of delightful, life-like characters: the sorely tried likeable 
Mrs. Hopkins, the amusing, haughty Miss Banks of the glove depart- 
ment, the lively Tilly and Milly, who work in the store, and ambitious 
Snoozer; Mrs. Hopkins's only son, who aspires to be President of the 
'(Jnited States, but finds his real sphere is running the local trolley 
car. The play is simplicity itself in the telling of an every-day story, 
and the scenic requirements call for only one set, a room in the 
boarding house of Mrs. Hopkins, while an opportunity is afforded tc 
introduce any number of extra characters. Musical numbers may bo 
introduced, if desired. Price, 30 Cents, 

Tempest and Sunshine 

A comedy drama in four acts, by Marie Doran. S males and i 
females. One exterior and three interior scenes. Plays about 2 hours;, 

Every school girl has revelled in the sweet simplicity and gentle- 
ness ot the characters interwoven in the charms that Mary J. Holmes 
commands in her story of "Tempest and Sunshine." We can strongly 
recommend this play as one of the best plays for high school pro- 
duction published in recent years. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produoed} 



The Touch-Down 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, btJ* 
4ny number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos- 
tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2 J* 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the stoi-y of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

"The Touch-Down" has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sun£:, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cent* 

Hurry^ Hurry, Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females,* 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2J4 hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before pjie is twenty-one, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative's million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram- 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves witi 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price» 30 Cents. 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males (t 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy's room and 
ihe university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, "Bob" Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess ia 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
A "spread" in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who IS putting him through college. Aunt Serena, "a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world," has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received "a pink card," which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
college life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the "Prom" and the classroom, makes a story oj 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
college life. There are several opportunities for the introduction ol 
college songs and "stunts." Price, 30 Cental 

^The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 







The Charm School 

A fascinating comedy in three acts, by Alice Duer Miller and Robert 
Milton. 6 males, 10 females. (May be played by 5 males and 8 females). 
Any number of school girls may be used in the ensembles. Scenes, two 
interiors. Costumes, modern. Plays 2J/2 hours. 

The story of "The Charm School" is familiar to Mrs. Miller's readers. 
It relates the adventures of a handsome young automobile salesman 
scarcely out of his 'teens who, upon inheriting a girl's boarding school 
from a maiden aunt, insists on running it himself, according to his own 
ideas, chief of which is, by the way, that the dominant feature in the 
education of the young girl of today should be CHARM. 

The situations that arise are teeming with humor — cltan, wholesome 
humor. In the end the young man gives up the school and promises to 
wait until the most precocious of his pupils reacheg a. marriageable age. 

"The Charm School" has thfe freshness of youth, the inspiration of an 
extravagant but novel idea, the charm of originality, and the promise of 
wholesome, sanely amusing, pleasant entertainment. We strongly recom- 
mend it for high school production. 

"The Charm School" was first produced at th'e Bijou Theatre, New 
York, and then toured the country. Two companies are now playing it 
in England. Price, 75 cents 

Daddy Long-Legs 

A charming comedy in four acts, by Jean Webster. The full cast calls 
for 6 males, 7 females and 6 orphans, but the play, by the easy doubling 
of some of the characters may be played by 4 males, 4 females and 3 
oi-phans. The orphans appear only in the first act and may be played 
by small girls of any agfe. Four easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. 
Plays 2J^ hours. 

The New York Times reviewer, on th'e morning following the Broad- 
way production, wrote the following comment: 

"If you will take your pencil and write down, one below the oth'er, 
the words delightful, charming, sweet, beautiful and entertaining, and 
then draw a line and add them up, the answer will he 'Daddy Long-Legs.' 
To that result you might even add brilliant, pathetic and humorous, but 
the answer even then would be just what it was before — the play which 
Miss Jtan Webster has made from her book, 'Daddy Long-Legs,' and 
which was presented at the Gaiety last night. To attempt to describe 
the simplicity and beauty of 'Daddy Long-Legs' would be like attempting 
to describe the first brtath of Spring after an exceedingly tiresome and 
hard Winter." 

"Daddy Long-Legs" enjoyed a two-years' run in New York and was 
then toured for over three years, and is now published in play form 
for the first timt. Price, 75 cents 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 



SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 

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Edward E. Kidder 

PcrcT MacKaye 

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle 

Louis N. Parker 

R. C. Carton 

Alfred Sutro 

Richard Harding Davis 

Sir Arthur W. Pinero 

Anthony Hope 

Oscar Wilde 

Haddon Chambers 

Jerome K. Jerome 

Cosmo Gordon Lexmox 

H. V. Esmond 

Mark Swan 

Grace L. Furniss 

Marguerite Merrington 

Hermann Sudermann 

Rida Johnson Young 

Arthur Law 

Rachel Crothers 

Martha Morton 

H. A. Du Souchet 

W. W. Jacobs 

Madeleine Lucette Ryley 



J. Hartley Maimers 
James Forbes 
James Montgomery 
Wm. C. de Mills 
Roi Cooper Megroe 
EkLward E. Rose 
Israel ZangwiU 
Henry Bernstein 
Harold Brighoustt 
ChaniOng Pollock 
Harry Durant 
Winchell Smith 
Margaret Mayo 
Edward Peple 
A. E. W. Mason 
Charles Klein 
Henry Artbtur Jotttf 
A. E. Thomas 
Fred. Ballard 
Cyril Harcourt 
Carlisle Moore 
Ernest Denny 
Laurence Housman 
Harry James Smith 
Edgar Selwyn 
Augustin McHugh 
Robert Housura 
Charles Kcnyon 
C M. S. McLcUan 



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